Masks
by Exilo
Summary: No prophecies. No chosen ones. No Skywalkers or Solos. Just a simple Kaleesh assassin trying to make his way in the galaxy. Chapter 16: the end. Anyone who's been reading, drop a review and tell me what you think.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

The parade offered both cover and an incentive for his target to move to the window, where he could take a shot.

Some asked Yawn why he did it. They were usually idiots, so he saw no foul in killing the curious little twits. But if they were his employer, he was expected to answer questions no matter how remarkably stupid they may be. In such a situation, he always responded with: "Its what I'm good at."

Born on the war torn planet of Kalee, Yawn learned to be good from a young age. By his fifth summer, he was expected know how to assemble, load, shoot, clean, and disassemble a slug rifle. By his seventh summer, he could kill an enemy from five hundred meters away. The warring tribes of Kalee were a threat to his family, and so they had to be dealt with.

Yawn climbed the winding stairwell, but stopped when he reached a door bordered by sunlight that lead to the building's roof. He thoughtfully drew the blaster from its resting place on his belt, gripping it tightly in his four fingered claw before carefully pushing the door open.

Then in his fifteenth summer, the Huk began their invasion. The Huk, soulless bugs that they were, came to Kalee with the intent of pillaging the planet for all it was worth. Upon finding only the native people may turn a profit, the Huk began a swift act of shackling them into slavery. Yawn had been born into a war. And though that war had ended, though the Huk had long fled Kalee, Yawn never stopped fighting. It was what he was good at.

The roof was vacant, so Yawn pushed his blaster back into its holster. He set his briefcase down and clicked the locks open with a careful snap of his claws. The disassembled pieces of his rifle were held in place by squishy foam, the weapon nestled securely in the indentations. He assembled his rifle with familiar ease, barrel to grip, grip to shoulder stock, and the scope nestled on top.

His target was a Twi'lek by the name of Otha Ryniel, and was located approximately half a mile away. Information on her was provided by his employer. It wouldn't necessarily help kill her, but information was power, and Yawn liked to be safe.

A spoiled little princess who'd inherited a business empire when her father died of "mysterious causes". The contract had not been activated by a rival group, but from with in her own organization. She had taken the successful business and driven it into the ground. "Legitimate" businessmen were often his best customers, there was always a vice president who set his sights higher, or a disgruntled employee who felt he'd been unjustly passed over for a promotion. With Ryniel dead, someone would take her place. And if that someone had enemies who could afford the Kaleesh's services, a contract would be activated.

Laying down onto his belly, Yawn's eye found the rifle's scope. Far off Ryniel stood sipping wine before her apartment suite's window, which stretched from floor to ceiling. She was attractive. As tall and slender as any of her kind had a right to be. Her god had seen it fit to endow her healthily, but not to an obnoxious extent. She was the color of the sea, not quite green or blue, but a pigment of mixture. Attractive, as far as he could tell. A pity.

Intelligence stated the glass of her window was of a special production that would neutralize lasers and stop slugs from small or medium caliber rifles. For such a contract, Yawn was utilizing a specially made high powered rifle. He'd need to fire three shots. One would splinter and strain the glass. The second would shatter it. And the third was meant for Ryniel herself.

Breath in, breath out. Line the crosshairs. Compensate for wind, momentum loss, spin, velocity, even the planet's gravitational pull could obscure the shot. This was far from Yawn's first job, but he still calculated all variables. When ready, his forefinger found the rifle's trigger and gave it a gentle squeeze. The rifle roared and bucked into his shoulder. Yawn ejected the spent shell, took aim, and squeezed the trigger, before again ejecting. The shell clinked gently against the ground.

The third slug found its way into the Twi'lek's breast, exiting out of her back in a spray of blood, leaving a gaping hole where her heart should have been.

Not bad, Yawn decided. Perhaps a tad messy, he could hear the local authorities already buzzing through the streets. He disassembled his rifle and returned it to its nondescript carrying case, before gathering the spent shells and dropping them into his pocket. He climbed down the stairwell and disappeared into the bustling crowd. Their attention was completely on the parade. They didn't even notice him.


	2. Chapter 2

**It doesn't seem like anyone is reading this story. The Star Wars page is just so popular, this story is quickly pushed down out of view of readers. Very sad, since i really like this story. The first chapter was a little slow, it'll pick up though. And thank you anyone who is reading. Please R&R.**

_Chapter 2_

An interesting dilemma lay before Yawn. Staying in the city meant staying in the danger zone. The authorities would be looking for suspicious offworlders. There was a chance they would find him. On the other hand, to leave Coruscant would require a trip to the spaceport, which would be heavily guarded. He'd been faced with this problem when ever he worked on the more developed planets that boasted a decent policing force. He found that lying low for a few days at least offered him a chance of avoiding the police, where as a confrontation was almost guaranteed if he went to the spaceport.

The hotel was upscale and highly public, which was the last place any policing force would think to look for a lowly assassin. Yawn casually walked through the lobby, politely greeting the hostess, cheerfully nodding at his fellow guests. He carried his briefcase tightly at his side.

The elevator was empty, save for a male Farghul who wore in a spiffy red dress jacket, signifying he was the elevator conductor. He was sitting on a stool, balancing with his long tail swinging from side to side.

"What floor, sir?" he asked.

"Two-twenty-three," Yawn said.

"We don't get too many Kaleesh on Coruscant anymore, what with that messy affair a few years back."

Yawn watched the feline from the corner of his reptilian eye. His free hand moved to the grip of the blaster he kept in his belt's holster, concealed by his vest. It was a slow, subtle movement. If the Farghul noticed, he didn't show it.

"I mean, talk about a kick to the nuts when you're down. First the Yam'rii attack you, then the Jedi, then the Senate bankrupts your planet. How much can they do to you?"

His grip tightened.

"Horrible stuff. You don't die quick from starvation after all. At least in war its usually a shot through the chest and you're dead. But starvation, and watching everyone around you starve as well. That's gotta kill you."

"Are you going somewhere with this or are you just trying to piss me off?" Yawn snapped.

The Farghul grinned a mischievous grin. "What are you involved in?"

"Murders and executions."

"Ah a business man. It must be hard. Mergers and acquisitions can be so tedious. I just thought you may be interested in some company tonight?"

"What sort of company?"

"The delightful sort. And it only costs fifty credits."

The elevator slowed to a halt. The doors opened with a whirr. "I'm in room twelve," Yawn shrugged, stepping out.

The room, as rented rooms usually where, contained the bare minimum of luxuries. A bed. A lamp. A table which Yawn set his briefcase down on. And a chair he sat down on. He snapped the case open, removed the various pieces of his weapon, and inspected each as a mother would her child, tenderly passing every piece under his watchful eye. Slug rifles were rare now a days. Working individual parts even rarer.

Satisfied as he would ever be, Yawn tucked the rifle into its foam bed and slide the suitcase to the end of the table, where it would stay for three days until he attempted his escape from the planet. Yawn took off his boots and lay down on the bed, hoping he may manage an hour or two of sleep.

He didn't know how much time lapsed before he heard a shallow knocking at his door. Grunting, he pulled his boots back on.

Yawn's preferred side arm was a DT-57 Annihilator. He held it closely behind his back as he opened the door to reveal a Farghul woman standing before. She was pretty and slender, with the same mischievous glint in her eyes that all her kind had. She was covered in a layer of tawny fur, but lacked any stripes, spots, or a white underbelly that sometimes showed up on her kind. Her apparel was more of lingerie than actual clothing, colored a red that nicely complimented her fur.

Yawn slipped his blaster into the back of his pants, deciding his guest was not a hostile.

"You requested some company?" The Farghul's voice trembled hesitantly, as if she was terrified she may misspeak.

"Come in," the Kaleesh said, stepping to his side. His company slinked inside, finding the center of the room where she stood awaiting orders. "May I ask your name?"

"Kiara," she purred.

"You can call me Yawn. Its not my given name, but a nickname. Only my family calls me by my given name. Care for a drink?"

The Farghul froze like a frightened kitten. She hadn't yet been told to remove what few clothing she wore, or to climb onto the bed. When Yawn poured her a glass and carried it over, he had to manually open her and close it around the wine. "Come have a seat."

Given an order that vaguely resembled something in the parameters of her job, she quickly said down. The mask fashioned from the skull of karabbac that Yawn wore covered the upper portion of his face. However, by moving it up slightly, he exposed his jaw, which allowed him to lift the glass to his lips and sip at the wine.

"So what brought you to Coruscant?" Yawn asked. He put his feet on the table and reclined back, balancing on the hind legs of his seat.

"Sir," she started. "I don't know if we should talk."

"Nonsense. I'm paying for your company." Sharp sallow reptilian eyes flickered in amusement. The Farghul took a long breath, if for no other purpose than to buy her a few extra moments. Yawn was dressed in military boots, black loose fabric pants, and a black cargo vest. Without a shirt, his lean, muscular arms were exposed, as was the bandana that was knotted around his left bicep. She pondered its significance. Her attention was soon refocused to the skull that masked his face, framed by locks of black hair. The eye holes showed the surrounding scaly red skin.

"Perhaps you would like to ask me something instead?"

"Why are you wearing a mask?" The Farghul had spoke on a nervous impulse and immediately regretted the question. She braced herself for some form of punishment. The cracking snap of a backhanded slap always took her by surprise. This time, the surprise was it never came.

Across the room, Yawn smiled, amused by the question. "I think it's a rather nice fashion statement. I bet in a few years, everyone from bounty hunters to emperors will hide their face. Besides, everyone wears masks. Everyone hides who they really are.

"My turn for a question. Why are you here?"

The feline looked away a moment. "I belong to Leo," she shrugged.

"Ah, slavery. The Republic and their Jedi lapdogs are so concerned with wars they have no business being involved in, they don't take care of their own backyard. Have you ever thought of running away?"

"Where would I go?" she shrugged again. "I can't get off planet, and it's a small city. Leo would find me."

Yawn pulled fifty credits from a pocket in his vest and threw them across the table. "If you don't mind, you're bringing my mood down."

The Farghul gathered the credits, counted them, recounted them, and shivered. "Leo charges a hundred credits."

"No he doesn't, he told me fifty."

"P-please. I can't got back with only fifty. I need a hundred per customer."

"If your boss has a problem, tell him to take it up with me, now leave."

She did as she was told, taking each step slowly as if she hoped the Kaleesh would change his mind given enough time. Only when the door closed behind her did she realize how screwed she really was.

Yawn didn't fool himself into believing he'd be able to sleep peacefully now. Instead, he looked over his blaster. It wasn't long before he heard another knock on the door, this one much more intrusive. He opened the door to allow Leo, Kiara, and a third fairly tall and muscular Farghul. An enforcer, Yawn presumed. His clawed hand moved behind his back to the grip of his blaster. The Annihilator had been customized to fit better in a Kaleesh's unique grip, which was composed of two index fingers surrounded by a pair of thumbs.

"It seems we have a problem, sir," Leo said.

"No problem. You offered me company for fifty credits. I have paid, so our business is done."

"You are mistaken, Kaleesh. The company I provide cost a hundred credits. If you refuse to pay the remainder of my fee, we have a problem."

The burly Farghul stepped forward, smiling so his sharp front teeth glistened with a sheen of saliva.

"You really don't want to do this," Yawn warned.

But the Farghul would not listen to reason. He continued to advance.

Yawn drew his blaster so fast, neither the pimp nor his bodyguard realized what had happened until they felt a deep burning in their chest. The bodyguard succumb to death quickly. Leo managed to close his hands around the hole in his chest before collapsing.

"Don't scream," Yawn warned, clasping his free hand around Kiara's mouth and cramming the muzzle of the blaster into her navel. But she did scream, so Yawn was forced to keep his hand clamped. Eventually she ran out of breath, and simply cried.

"Now I'm going to remove my hand. If you scream, I'll shoot you. Blink if you understand."

The Farghul blinked. Yawn slowly moved his grip away before lowering his pistol. He went about the chores of checking the corpse's pockets. Upon finding a stack of credits, he threw them to the woman. She didn't catch them, but clumsily fumbled them from the ground.

"There's no one to track you down now. No reason to stay her either. Have a nice life." Yawn took his briefcase and left the Farghul alone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Its wasn't Yawn's intention to pay a trip to the spaceport so soon after completing the contract, but it wasn't his intention to kill anyone but the contract either. His species was adaptable. When faced with a problem, Yawn had been taught to fix it and move on. As predicted, the spaceport was bustling with guards. Not just local ones either, but a large military presence stood between him and his ship.

And their were Jedi. They were peppered through out the crowd, not standing with the Senate Guards nor displaying their lightsabers blatantly, but Yawn knew they were Jedi none the less, for Jedi always carried themselves with an air of superiority and power. Clearly, Ryneil the Twi'lek had been a being of greater influence than he first thought. Ill armed as he was, he would never survive a shootout with several armed military men, let alone a single Jedi.

But he wasn't here to fight. There was no profit to be made from killing soldiers. He wasn't worried. After all, he was but one in a sea of hundreds. Who would suspect him?

"Excuse me sir," the voice belonged to a human Senate Guard, his face distorted by the T shaped opening in the helmet. "Are you traveling alone?"

There was no way to inconspicuously take the soldier down. Yawn already noticed two more soldiers pushing their way through the crowd. Snipers on the catwalk prepared their rifles.

"Are you alone?" the soldier asked again, this time with a tone of annoyance.

"No," Yawn said coolly.

"Who might you be with?"

Yawn looked about, for a moment meeting the sniper's eye.

"Who might you be with, _sir_?"

Warm fur brushed over Yawn's scales. Slinky arms wrapped around his. "There you are sweetie," Kiara purred.

Surprise faded quickly. "Sorry hun. I was just talking with this nice gentleman. Anything else?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry to have wasted your time." The soldier bowed slightly, before disappearing into the crowd. The sniper moved his attention to a possible smuggler who was arguing with another guard. The Farghul smiled, satisfied, until she felt the familiar pressure of a blaster's muzzle in her ribs and a firm grip take her arm.

She was dragged through the crowd, and when Yawn reached a secluded nook of the spaceport, she was thrown against the wall. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"You're hurting me," Kiara whimpered. His grip was like a vice on her arm, and the muzzle of the gun was grinding a crack in her ribs.

"I can hurt you a lot more. What are you doing here?"

"People are after you," she whined. "Leo was small time, but he had some big friends. And they don't like it when something happens without their consent."

His grip didn't loosen, nor did he lower his blaster. He moved closer to her, sharp golden eyes burning like twin suns. His mask was old, sun bleached with small hairline cracks, the result of countless battles no doubt. "How do they know about me?"

"Th-they don't," she said. She was a horrible liar.

Yawn managed an angry curse in his native tongue before he twisted around. A slim male Farghul, armed with a small dagger lashed forward. Yawn clutched him by the wrist that held the knife, pulled him forward and struck him with a forceful cracking backhand. The Kaleesh positioned the Farghul's head beneath his arm, holding him in an inverted facelock before jerking backwards, snapping the feline's neck with a wrenching crackle. The body slumped to the ground, writhing slightly before lying still.

"You killed him," Kiara gasped.

Yawn picked up the dagger. Without a hint of hesitation or regret, he crammed it into the Farghul woman's chest. "If you're going to try to kill me," he warned. "You better make sure you kill me."

He held her close, smothering her screams by pushing her muzzle into his vest. She clawed loosely at his arms, gradually growing weaker until Yawn set her down. He looked around, checking if anyone had noticed. Satisfied he was safe, he slipped into the crowd.

The ship was a decrepit, derelict looking thing, dubbed the _Nemesis_. It was a stocky, custom built machine that Yawn claimed to have stolen from one of his victims many years ago. Yawn's co-pilot was an equally stocky Gand by the name of Blixem, who was fitted with a breathing respirator and containment suit.

"What are you doing here? Blixem thought you were going to lie low for a few days?" he asked, as always referring to himself in the third person. Lacking any natural vocal cords, he had to rely on an artificial voice box to communicate, which gave him a mechanical tone reminiscent of a droid.

"Complications came up," Yawn muttered, assuming the captain's chair. "We've got to take off now."

The Gand nodded, he knew better than to question any further. The flick of a switch started the engines. In another moment, the ship was rumbling fiercely as it left the ground. In minutes, Coruscant was but a distant dot in the vast expanse of black space.


	4. Chapter 4

**I would just like to thank Forumsurfer for the review. You don't know how good it is to see that my work is appreciated. I just hope i eventually have a few more readers than one.**

_Chapter 4_

Yawn woke without any foreign aid, as he always did. In the darkness of his quarters, he groped for his karabbac mask. Only when it safely was fitted over his face did he turn on the light and get dressed.

Blixem loved to fly. He had since he first piloted a ship during his sixteenth year. Many of his kind practiced meditation as a means of achieving deep thought. But the Gand could only think in the solitude of a ship's deck, now when the rest of the crew was asleep.

The door opened, and Yawn stepped inside, the thumping of his boots cracking Blixem's serenity. The Gand was annoyed for only a moment, he enjoyed the captain company as well.

"Do you ever sleep?" Yawn asked

"Of course Blixem sleeps. Blixem just don't need as much sleep as you do."

The Kaleesh sat down in his chair, pulling a monitor screen in front of him. "Computer," he said in a low voice.

"Yes sir?" asked an echo.

"Who's on the market today?"

"Onaga the Hutt is requesting your assistance with one of his former employees. The Black Sun is requesting the head of a Senator, for an unspecified reason. A contract has been activated by Lama Su, Kamino's Prime Minister. An anonymous buyer has filed a contract on a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" Yawn asked.

"Yes sir, a Jedi."

"No one puts contracts out on Jedi. No one accepts contracts on Jedi."

"The contract is here sir. Everything seems legitimate."

Yawn typed at the small monitor before the pilot seat. It blinked black, before the contract in question flickered onto the screen. He examined it, confused, until he decided it was real. How long had it been since he last killed a Jedi, Yawn wondered. He had to admit to himself, he'd gotten lucky. It would be foolish to assume he could do it again.

"We're going to Kamino," he decided aloud.

Blixem nodded recognition. A lone finger drummed the hyper drive coordinates into the computer. "Jump in five seconds," he warned. The stars swirled around the ship.

Descending onto a planet was never without its difficulties. Gravitational pull constantly tried to pull the ship forward, slacking on the controls could mean too fast of a descent, which would mean lose of control. To descend too fast could mean burning up in the atmosphere.

None of that happened though. Blixem held tightly to the controls, using the planet's gravity to draw the _Nemesis_ in but always maintain complete control.

"Cruiser, please identify yourself," said a voice over the radio.

"This is Captain Krieger," the Kaleesh said into the microphone. "I have business with your Prime Minister regarding a certain _contract_. Requesting permission to dock."

There were hushed mutters over the radio as the speaker conversed with a second person. At last, the voice said, "You are cleared for landing on pad six."

"Thank you," Yawn said.

"What weapons should we bring?" Blixem asked.

"Only side arms. We don't want to start a war. Kamino is peaceful, nothing heavy."

If engaged in a shootout, Yawn enjoyed a high capacity, strong stopping power, and good range, preferences reflected in his carrying a DT-57 pistol. Blixem preferred a lighter weapon: the KYD-21 blaster pistol. Though boosting good strength, the blaster's best aspect was its small size and handling, especially in close quarters.

Even the short walk from the ship to the indoors left Yawn and Blixem thoroughly saturated.

"Greetings," a Kaminoan addressed them. She was extremely tall, far taller than the Gand or the Kaleesh. "I am Si Toph. Is there anything I can help you with?"  
"It's a pleasure to meet you Si Toph. I'm Captain Krieger. This is my pilot and partner, Blixem. I request an audience with your prime minister, concerning private business."

"Very well," Si Toph conceded. She brought them through the sterile catacombs of the indoor city to an office door flanked by two Kaminoans. They were armed with a vibro spear each and dressed in tight, leather like armor: more aesthetically pleasing than practical for their positions as bodyguards.

"I'm afraid weapons are not permitted in the Prime Minister's chambers. Please deposit any ordinance with the guards."

Yawn unholstered his DT-57, but passed it down to Blixem. "My pilot will remain out here," he said.

Lama Su's chambers were blindingly light and uncomfortably cool. For a Kaleesh at least. There was no doubt the room was tailored to a Kaminoan's liking.

"Greetings, Prime Minister," Yawn said with a submissive bow.

"Greetings Kaleesh, I see you answered my request."

Yawn couldn't identify any visible weapons, but in his experience, weapons could be hidden anywhere: up a sleeve, beneath a shirt. A desk separated the Kaleesh and the Kaminoan, which offered the perfect cover for any number of blasters.

Yawn examined a small, palm sized computer he kept in one of his vest's pockets. "Kay Swann. The amount offered to me is fifty thousand credits."

Lama Su formed a pyramid with his long fingers as his eyes closed to half slits. "You must understand. This is not something I do lightly. My people work to retain a certain level of…pedigree in our breeding. It is necessary, given the poor shape of our planet. You might say Swann slipped through our grip of perfection."

Yawn said nothing, calmly listening to the Kaminoan. Most sentients needed some sort of justification when they hired him. They clung to some belief that what they were doing was morally right.

A slender finger passed a slip of paper across the table. Yawn's claw retrieved it thoughtfully.

"Just one condition," Lama Su asked. "Don't make her suffer, without cause."

It was late in the night. Kay Swann had had trouble sleeping, as usual. As an alternative to the human practice of counting large, wooly animals, she decided to sit by the window. The heaviest downpour had ceased, only a gentle pitter-patter hit the windows. Lama Su had heard of planets that didn't always rain, planets that didn't even have rain. Someday she would visit them, she decided. Just once she wanted to see a sky without clouds.

"I've got her. Forth floor, second window," Blixem said. He was perched on the roof of a neighboring building, his big bug eyes looking through a pair of binoculars.

Yawn, who kneeled beside him, cocked his slug thrower, holding it steady with both hands. At last, his target fell into his crosshairs. His finger squeezed the trigger, the rifle bucked backwards. A single bullet through Kay Swann's left eye. It broke through her brain, at last bursting through the back of her head in a spray of grey matter. She died instantly.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

"The amount of fifty thousand credits has been transferred to your account."

"Thank you Prime Minister," Yawn said to the monitor that displayed Lama Su.

"And Kaleesh," the thin, wraith like alien started. "If you ever come to my planet again, I will have you killed."

"Of course," the Kaleesh said clicking the computer off. Yawn laced his fingers and stretched them over his head at arms length. His muscles popped noisily.

Yawn locked the door to his room and dimmed the lights out above his head. Then, slowly, he removed his mask and set it down on a strip of silken cloth before him. He pulled a lighter from his vest pocket and ignited several candles that surrounded the mask, before slipping out of his vest and dropping it to the floor. Other than candles, a vial of water from the Jenuwaa Sea and a chunk of stone cut from the Abesmi monolith, sacred objects given to him by the holy man of his tribe, flanked the mask.

"Ancestors," Yawn said in a low voice, lacing his claws in a hallowed stance. "The path I traverse is treacherous. I ask that you deem myself and my comrades worthy of your protection. I ask you to watch over my family, for I cannot be with them. I ask for your wisdom, and your guidance, and your strength."

Yawn was not an old Kaleesh, but he had the scars of one. The naturally sharp appendages of the Huk had tore and ripped the scales on his chest, leaving gashes that would never fully heal. There was a similar scar stretching across his back, though the barbed shears of the bugs hadn't created those. Those had been given to him by a Jedi, many years prior to today. He learned two things on that day. Jedi were powerful foes, with abilities and weapons it would take him years to fully comprehend. He also learned Jedi were fools, for the Jedi turned his back before the threat of the Kaleesh was dealt with. Yawn never made such a mistake.

Then there was the tattoo on his left arm. He usually kept it covered, whether with a tied bandana or a long sleeved shirt. The tattoo consisted of the symbol of the Huk clan that had enslaved Yawn. It was a mismatch of shapes that somehow signified who's property he was. He often wondered why he didn't have the cursed thing removed, and could never offer a decent reason to allow it to remain.

His reflections were cut short as he was violently thrown from his place of rest. He crashed against a far wall; dazed for a breath, but quickly he stood up. "Computer," he snarled. "What happened?"

"I do not know sir," the mechanical echo offered.

Furious at the ache in his back as much as his own ignorance at what was happening, he stormed out of his room and to the ship's control room. "Blixem," he demanded. "What happened?"

The Gand was busy himself. His fingers furiously jabbed at the three keyboards that flanked his chair. His big, bug eyes scanned the computer screens, reading and absorbing the information faster than the ship's computer could display it.

Calmer now, the Kaleesh asked, "What happened."

"We got hit, by a freighter," Blixem said slowly.

"How the fuck do we get hit by a freighter?"

"It came out of nowhere and rammed the ship a bit. Blixem has everything under control though." He typed at the keyboard, and the three separate monitors converged to form a single larger one. A gigantic ship was displayed, Yawn assumed it was a capital ship or a freighter, perhaps a merger of the two. He had never been good with ships.

"We're getting a distress signal from the ship, Yawn. What do you want to do?"

"Open a channel. I'll take it."  
Blixem's stubby fingers drummed at the controls. The monitor blinked from a vision of the ship to one a Human.

"This is Captain Krieger, responding to the distress signal. What is the nature of

your emergency?"

"I am Major Sanders," the Human said. "One of our engines has been sabotaged. We need help."

"How many are in your crew?" Yawn asked.

"Four, including myself."

"That is a substantial sized vessel to only need four crewmembers," Yawn said suspiciously.

The Human didn't seem to take notice of the Kaleesh's distrust. "We've got an advanced interface system. We haven't got to do much more than basic maintenance, the computer takes care of most of the work. Besides, this is more of a freighter than a battleship. We badly need your help. We've been floating for three days. This isn't a well traversed area. I was beginning to fear we'd never find anyone."

The Gand cut the feed before speaking. "He's not lying Yawn. These routes aren't well known. They are mostly used by smugglers or pirates, or us."

"So you believe him?"

"I said he's not lying. I didn't say he was telling the truth. What should we do: help them or leave them to rot? It is your choice, captain."

"They're probably smugglers, and its always nice to make friends. Pack heavy though, incase they decide to do anything cute."

One of the _Nemesis_'s rooms served as an armory. It was small, barely compensating the Kaleesh and the Gand when they stood back to back, but served its purpose nicely.

"You taking any grenades?" Yawn asked.

"Yes, Blixem will keep a few ammonia bombs handy."

"Just take the frags and a flash, the ammonia are too dangerous. You want the Disruptor?"

"Blixem prefers the shotgun."

The Gand careful placed a small knife in his boot, another up his sleeve. A year prior, he had nicked his containment suit when he was carelessly hiding such a weapon. No damage was done: Blixem held his breathe until the suit was quickly resealed, but it had instilled a sense of healthy wariness in the Gand.

"Ready?" Yawn asked. He decided to arm himself with a carbine rifle slung over his shoulder, his blaster at his side, as well as three grenades resting on his belt.

Blixem nodded, holding his shotgun of choice tightly in his three fingered grip, as they both made their way out of the ship.

The crew of the freighter were apparently all Human, as there were four Humans to greet the Kaleesh and the Gand. Each was armed with an automatic rifle and a side-arm, and armored in olive colored body armor. Perhaps ex-military or high class mercenary, but then why would they pilot a freighter? Smugglers were rarely so well armed.

"Captain Krieger?" one of the Humans asked. He was blonde and fair skinned, with a scar over his left, dead white eye, which made him stand out. "I am captain Sanders. This is my navigator: Fitzsimmons. My pilot: Hicks. And my co-pilot: Marvin. Tell me, do either of you have any knowledge of engineering?"

"Blixem will see what Blixem can do," he said, bug like eyes shifting the four Humans, his pudgy fingers never leaving his blasters embrace. Blixem had fairly good intuition. Nothing accurate or strong: simply a feeling of who he could trust and who he couldn't. That intuition had told him to trust the Kaleesh when he and Yawn first met.

"Marvin, Hicks, please show our Gand guest to the engine room."

The catacombs of the freighter stretched and twisted like a Sarlacc's innards. Blixem never let his grip leave the KYD-21 pistol. It was small enough, that it was possible the Humans didn't even know he was carrying it. He was confident on his draw when facing one duelist. A second one could pose a problem, especially if these Humans indeed were military.

The door that read engine room slide into the wall. The two soldiers stepped in. "One of the prisoners got loose and just went nuts in here. We were able to neutralize the threat," Marvin said.

Though hesitant to drop his shotgun and show his back to a possible hostile, Blixem decided if the intent was to kill him, they'd of done it by now. Besides, he still carried his blaster and knives beneath his cloak.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you Xeno and Forumsurfer for the review. Its discouraging to see a story with one chapter get 15 reviews, and yet this story with five chapters only has three reviews. Maybe I would have been better off if I'd used movie characters. Let us see, Yawn could be Grievous, Blixem can be Zuckuss. Yeah, it just might work. Is there like a secret to posting on the Star Wars page? A special time of the day with high visibility? Oh well.**

_Chapter 6_

"So you're a Kaleesh?" Fitzsimmons asked.

It was a stupid question, so Yawn saw so no reason to answer.

"Did you fight in the war against the Yam'rii?"

"Soulless bugs," he muttered bitterly. "Yes I fought."

"Probably killed a bunch of them aye?"

Sanders cleared his throat. "Please excuse my comrade. He is young and stupid and easily intoxicated with war stories."

"I can see that," Yawn grunted. His eyes shifted from Sanders to Fitzsimmons. "You ever fight?"  
"No," he stuttered.

"This is a pretty sizable ship to do nothing with it. What business are you in? Smuggling?" His grip found his pistol. "Or maybe pirates."

Sanders cleared his throat again. "If you must know, we're smugglers," he said.

"What are you smuggling?"

"A few sentients," Fitzsimmons said quickly. Sanders cleared his throat again.

"Slavers?" Yawn said. "That interesting. Hey kid?"

"What?" Fitzsimmons asked.

"You ever seen one of these?" Yawn un-slung the rifle from his back. Sanders tensed, easing his hands to his rifle's trigger. "This here is a N'Gant-Zarvel 9118 carbine. Strong, accurate, good range I've lost count of how many people I've killed with this. Catch," the Kaleesh said, throwing it to Fitzsimmons, who let his own rifle sling to his side. Sanders too put his focus on the carbine as it spun through the air. He didn't notice as Yawn drew his DT-57 and shot him through the left eye, blowing away a sizeable portion of his skull. Turning, Yawn shot Fitzsimmons through the stomach.

"Why?" the Human managed to ask.

"I really hate slavers," Yawn shrugged, finishing him off with a blast through the heart.

---

"Lizard to Bug."

The voice belonged to Yawn, and came from a communicator inside Blixem's helmet, so only he heard it. "Bug here?" he whispered. He was tinkering with the engine, his two Human guards standing a few steps off talking to each other.

"The monkeys are rabid. Put them down. Then meet me on the bridge. Understood?"

"Roger," he said. Blixem stood up. "Hicks," he called out.

Hesitant a moment, the Human slowly came forward.

"Blixem thinks he's found the problem. Would you mind holding his?" he asked, putting out a stubby hand.

Sensing no danger, the Human took the object and looked down at it, realizing too late it was an explosive. A flash grenade released approximately two point three million candlepower and one hundred and seventy decibels of noise. Blixem averted his eyes and covered his ears as the white flashing boom filled the confines of the room.

Casually retrieving his shotgun from its resting place against the wall, Blixem looked it over. The Humans were squirming along the ground, blind and deaf, screaming for help. Blixem pushed the shotgun to both of their heads respectively, and squeezed the trigger.

---

It didn't take long to find the ship's "storage": a vast room consisting of a high domed ceiling and hundreds, perhaps thousands of cages, stacked and side by side. The cages were small, only able to compensate maybe two standing humanoids. That didn't stop the slavers from cramming as many bodies that could fit, as evidenced by the two Twi'leks and the Chadra-fan that were squeezed into the cage, despite the many empty cells that surrounded them. The rodent was left to be trampled each time the taller of the sentients tried to shift to a more comfortable stance.

Yawn unlocked the door with the key he'd taken off one of the corpses. The Twi'leks and the Chadra-fan spilled out of the cell, overjoyed to be free. They stretched hurt and weak muscles while breathing the fresh air.

"Who are you?" the Chadra-fan squeaked.

Yawn unlocked the door of a cell, freeing four Falleen women, though only three walked out. The fourth needed to be carried.

Yawn stopped when he came to a cell with a single occupant: a Whipid; a vast specimen of fur, muscle, teeth and claws. The Kaleesh noticed bits and pieces of a body at the Whipid's feet. Dried blood covered the cell, and there were traces of crimson around the Whipid's muzzle. Apparently, he hadn't been the sole occupant to begin with.

"Don't let him out!" the Chadra-fan shrieked, running between the cage and the Kaleesh. This put the rodent into the grip of the Whipid. A single, gargantuan hand descended and wrapped around the Chadra-fan's chest.

Yawn held his carbine up with two hand, reptilian eyes lining the sight carefully. It would need to be a precise shot, lest the Whipid's grip crush the poor little creature as a reflex. He needed the Chadra-fan alive, as she may prove useful.

"Put her down," Yawn warned.

"Or what?" the Whipid snarled. "You're one of the good guys. You won't risk putting this poor little whelp in peril."

If the situation permitted it, Yawn would have chuckled. "If I pull this trigger, a laser will pass through your head. It will enter just above the area between your eyes. You'll be dead in an instant, unable squeeze your hand and kill the rodent. Put her down."

The Whipid snickered. The rifle bucked and let out its usual thumping sound as Yawn squeezed the trigger. The gargantuan creature collapsed in a moment, blood and grey matter oozing out of the swollen exit wound and onto the cell's floor.

"You alright?" Yawn asked, lifting the Chadra-fan by the collar of her shirt and setting her onto her feet. So they were eye level, the Kaleesh was forced to lower to his knee. "What your name?"

"Hess," she squeaked.

"You any good at fixing engines?"

"Yes. I mean, I was working as an engineer. The ship I was on was raided by these pirates. By the stars, I must have been in there for a week. No food or water or room to sit."

"We've all been locked up for god knows how long," one of the Twi'leks said. "The pirates didn't give us any food, though the Whipid didn't seem bothered by that in the slightest. Are you police?"

"No," Yawn said. "I'm not police."


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

"What will happen to us?" the Twi'lek asked.

"We'll take you to Naboo. You'll be able to get a transport there to where ever you want to go from there."

"So, you're just going to let us go?"

Yawn thought to himself a moment. "Yeah, why not? Go back to the ship's quarters and wait with your comrades. Try to get some sleep, eat something if you want. The trip shouldn't be long."

"Thank you," the Twi'lek said, but Yawn didn't acknowledge, so she didn't know if he heard her.

Yawn continued walking and at last reached the ship's bridge. "Set a course for Naboo so we can get rid of our passengers. Don't use the hyperdrive though. It was damaged, and I don't want to risk it."

"Yes sir," Blixem said.

Yawn took a seat at the captain's chair. "This is a nice ship. And she only needs a four man crew. We'd only need two more."

Blixem shrugged. "Not a bad ship. Just slow. Blixem likes fast ships. We'd be dead in a fire fight."

"Yeah, you're right."

"But we could keep the _Nemesis_ in the docking bay, and Blixem can pilot it in the event of a dog fight, or if we need to go planet side. This is a good ship."

Yawn nodded. "Do you want to take a break?"

The Gand stretched his stubby arms above his head. "Yes, I haven't slept in along time." Blixem shuffled off of the bridge and disappeared behind the sliding door. Yawn assumed the pilot's chair, familiarly gripping the controls and slouching into a comfortable position.

He heard the door open behind him and the gentle pitter-patter of small feet on the ship's floor alerted him to the Chadra-fan's presence. "Captain Krieger?" she asked.

"What?"

"The Twi'lek said that you would let us go, once we reach Naboo?"

"That's correct."

"Why?" the Chadra-fan asked.

The Kaleesh turned to the rodent. "Would you rather I kill you?"

"No," she squeaked. "But why would you go to the trouble of saving us, and taking us all the way to Naboo. You're not police. You have no reason to help us."

"I killed the humans because they were annoying me. I saved you from the Whipid so you could fix this ship. And I'm letting you go because I have no reason to kill you. I have business on Naboo. Nothing more."

"Well, what ever the reason. Thank you. Can I sit here?"

The Kaleesh waved his hand, permitting Hess to sit beside him in the co-pilot's chair.

"Is it true, about what your kind did to the Yam'rii?" she asked.

"What is the Republic saying we did now?"

"You slaughtered the Yam'rii. You went to their colonies and razed them and didn't leave one alive. They had to call the Jedi in just to stop you."

"That's true. Course, what the Republic fails to mention is the Huks came to our planet first. That chained us into slavery. We were just fighting back. Some may say we went a bit far, but imagine seeing your family taken away. Seeing your older sister shot before your eyes. You're baby sister torn apart, leaving barely enough to bury. Imagine a few years in slavery. Then tell me what too far is."

"I'm sorry," she offered, and there was a genuine amount of sincerity in her voice.

---

The two Falleen had discovered a secluded room on the vast freighter, illuminated only by a single light bulb hanging down from the ceiling.

"We have to do something about this," Xian said in a furious whisper.

"What do you mean?" Anazider asked. "The Kaleesh is just going to let us go once we reach Naboo."

Xian struck her companion hard across the jaw, a residual sting settling on Anazider's cheek. "Don't be stupid. That Kaleesh won't just let us go. Haven't you ever read what they did to the Yam'rii? They slaughtered thousands of them. If not for the Jedi, they'd have slaughtered thousands more. He's going to kill us just for the hell of it. We have to escape."

"But how?"

"One of the other Falleens can fight. There are also two Twi'leks and the Chadra-fan. I'll seduce the Kaleesh. Then we can overwhelm the Gand and take this ship for ourselves."

"We can't trust the Twi'leks to fight. They are cowards. And I've seen the Chadra-fan talking to the Gand and the Kaleesh like they were friends."

Xian shurgged. "Then we have to do this ourselves."

---

Yawn had been cleaning the various parts of his slugthrower when he heard a shallow knock on his door.

"May I come in?" asked a soft femine voice.

He secured his mask over his face before walking to the door, opening it to allow the Fallen woman to enter.

She was a sad little thing: malnurished so that each of her ribs poked out of her skin angrily. She had a certain weakness when she walked, but hid any pain she felt well. She had bathed, for her hair, once matted down with sweat and blood was now clean and straight, hanging loosely just past her shoulders. Reptilian in appearence, she was covered in scales that had taken on a soft pink hue, a lighter shade than Yawn's own.

There was something familiar about her, though he couldn't quite place it. She reminded him of his wife perhaps, for his wife had the same soft smile and long, silky ebony hair. Her pink scales did nothing to hinder the resemblence. She was wearing only a few clothes: her lingerie, which allowed a great deal of her skin to be shown. There was a scent in the air, something soft and sensual that carressed Yawn's senses into dullness.

"We are almost to Naboo," he said, suddenly feeling light headed. "Then you can go free."

"That's not what I'm here about," the Falleen purred, stepping forward.

Yawn looked to the blaster on his side table before turning back to his company.

"I want to properly thank you for saving me. I can't imagine a lifetime of servitude."

She moved closer, and he instinctively backed away, eventually falling onto the bed. She continued her approach, slowly making her way up to the Kaleesh, who lacking any further retreat lay motionless on the bed. Her hand extended to Yawn's skull like mask, but his claw quickly laced around her wrist, squeezing tightly enough that she yelped in pain. "Don't touch that," he warned.

The Falleen reclaimed her hand. "Actually, I rather like the mask. It offers a sense of mystery." She purred again, breathing onto his exposed scales on his neck, settling a little heavier onto his chest.

"You're using your pheromones," Yawn realized. It was a horrifying thought, yet he could not muster any force in his voice. "Like the Jedi use their mind tricks."

"Do you not like it?" she hummed. "Do you not like me? We Falleen are considered exotic and beautiful . Do you not agree with this thought."

"Stop it," he said again.

Her hand slowly found the blaster.

"What are you doing?" Yawn demanded.

"Just close your eyes. Everything will be over in a moment," she assured.

With both hands, she managed to hold the gun and press the muzzle into Yawn's chest. She jerked the trigger, but the weapon didn't go off. Rather, the clicking sound broke Yawn from the trance. One clawed hand found the back of the woman's head, the other was placed under her chin. With a jerking motion, he wretched her head and popped her neck out of alignment. He forced the limp body off of him, snatching up the blaster, clicking off the safety, and scanning the room until sure it was free from additional hostiles. Furious at himself for his weakness, he shot a red blast into the Falleen's corpse, the body jerking back a moment before lying still.


	8. Chapter 8

**Xeno's review gave me a lot to think about. I went back and rewrote the end of the previous chapter, extending the scene between Yawn and the Falleen a bit. This chapter also marks the first part of the arc that will make up the rest of the story. The prior chapters were meant to introduce Yawn, Blixem, and Hess. Now we can get to the overall story. Enjoy.**

_Chapter 8_

"Please stop it," Blixem warned, though his eyes never averted his eyes from the million of blinking lights and controls on the dashboard.

"What?" Hess squeaked.

"Why are you staring at Blixem?"

The Chadra-fan shrugged her petite shoulders and averted her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just, can I ask you a question."

"You can ask Blixem anything. If Blixem answers is the problem."

"Why do you work for Captain Krieger? I would imagine he wouldn't like you much. I mean, he must not like any bugs, no offense. What with what the Yam'rii did to the Kaleesh, I would think he would have some sort of prejudice. Not that he should. But I would think he might."

Blixem watched, perhaps amused, as Hess stumbled clumsily over her words. He looked back to the controls of the ship, making sure that everything was operating correctly. Satisfied, he turned back to Hess. "Yawn kills many people, but only people who he is hired to, or people who are a danger to him or his comrades. He doesn't really hold prejudices. He killed the Yam'rii because of what they did to him, and they really had it coming, but he doesn't kill Blixem because Blixem is his comrade. Yawn is like a snake. Don't bother, and he won't hurt you. Piss him off, and he'll strike."

"How did you come to work with him?"

"Blixem met Yawn many years ago, when Blixem was working for Unage the Hutt. Yawn had been hired to assassinate Unage. Blixem wasn't too found of Unage, so Blixem helped Yawn with the job."

The door behind them opened, slipping into the wall to compensate Yawn as he took several calculated strides forward. His blaster was gripped tightly in his right hand. Hess noticed it, just before his left hand laced around her throat and lifted her off the ground.

"What are you doing?" Blixem asked. Even through the mechanicals of his voice, his amusement was obvious.

Hess whimpered a little, trying hard to breath, but the grip only allowed the slightest amount of air to pass through her throat. Yawn was a few inches shy of six feet tall and weighed around two hundred pounds, mostly lean muscle. By contrast, Hess was only three feet tall and fifty pounds. An hour or two later, she would realize Yawn didn't want to hurt her, nor would he. He was just angry, perhaps trying to scare her. But for now, she was terrified.

"The Falleen were planning to kill you and I. You know the punishment for mutiny on my ship," Yawn growled.

"If the Falleen were planning the mutiny, why are you choking Hess? She is a Chadra-fan. Do you not notice the fur?"  
"This little mouse may have had something to do with it," the Kaleesh said, never yielding his grip, though the Chadra-fan was clawing furiously at the red scales.

"May? Yawn, I rather like Hess. Would you please refrain from killing her without any substantial evidence?"

His claw unlaced from around her throat and she fell to the ground, landing hard on her rump.

"She's your responsibility," Yawn said to Blixem. "The Falleen are all already dead. Do you care anything about the Twi'leks?"

Blixem shook his head.

"Then I'm putting them in one of the escape pods and jettisoning the thing."

Rubbing her throat tenderly, Hess listened to his heavy boots as Yawn left the bridge. The Gand walked over and aided the Chadra-fan in standing, not immediately leaving her side.

"Blixem will only ask this once. Did you have anything to do with the mutiny?"

"I didn't know anything about it," she begged.

Blixem nodded, and casually walked back to the controls to take his seat.

---

Yawn didn't like meeting his employers face to face. There was the obvious risk such a conference imposed, Yawn would have to be in a specific place at a specific time. But it was often necessary. And, his current employer: a Bothan by the name of Miles Chosun, was a consistent employer, and always insisted on an intimate meeting.

The place was a neutral space station. The office was lavishly furnished, almost to an obnoxious extent. The couch that Yawn was seated on cost nine hundred credits, as it was a designer make. The desk was said to be crafted from genuine Kashyyyk wood and the leather chair was stretched and treated Rancor hide. It was a nearly impossible claim to prove, but the set still cost Chosun three thousands, two hundred credits. Art decorated the walls and pedestals each piece costing no less than five hundred credits a piece.

"Care for a drink old friend?" Chosun asked.

Yawn did not respond immediately, but eventually nodded, and was given a glass of wine. He wafted its scent a moment. Deeming a subtle, pungent aroma suspicious, he took an experimental sip, but found nothing wrong.

"You mentioned my attendance was urgent," Yawn said. "Who is it you need killed?"

Chosun didn't answer immediately. He examined his wine, twirling the glass but never taking a sip. "I've never thanked you for all the work you've done for me over the years. All the people you've killed."

"Your credits are thanks enough. Who do you need killed."

"No. Have you any idea how many times you've saved me? My whole business would have crumbled long ago if not for you and only you. Yawn," Chosun started. "I'm sorry about this."

The Kaleesh immediately attempted to draw his sidearm, but somehow his claw missed the blaster's grip. He tried again, and succeeded, but found his hand difficult to lift.

"What did you put in the wine?" he demanded. Realizing it did not matter, he asked, ""How much did they pay you?"

"Exemption for my past crimes, as well as full immunity for the next five standard years, signed by the Chancellor himself. You'd be wise to remember everyone has a price."

Yawn had left his rifles on the _Nemesis_, along with most of his other weapons, as he wasn't planning on executing the contract that day. All he was armed with his side arm and a survival knife. Yawn cursed himself for trusting Chosun as a Jedi walked slowly into the room.

Yawn knew it was a Jedi not only by the lightsaber that dangled mockingly from his belt, but by the way he carried himself, the way he arrogantly strode into the room. The Jedi was a Rodian, covered in orange, lumpy skin save his smooth elongated snout. He was followed by an adult Cerean, also a Jedi, dressed in the traditional Jedi robes.

Yawn didn't have the right weapons to combat a Jedi, let alone kill two, and the sedative made his head light.

The Rodian put a hand on Yawn's shoulder and said something that may have been, "Come with us." Yawn stumbled forward, out of his seat, only to fall back, driving his elbow into the Rodian's snout. He drunkenly lifted his blaster to the Cerean. The Jedi only lifted his hand. The air around Yawn hardened, and an invisible force punched him backwards. He stumbled over the desk, rising and lifting his blaster again. Again, the Jedi lifted his hand, solidifying the air around Yawn. The window behind him shattered easily, and the Kaleesh fell.

Instinct told him to draw his knife and cram it into the building's side. He stopped so sharply, his arm almost dislocated out of the shoulder. His neck almost snapped. He lifted his blaster towards the sky. When the Cerean looked out the broken window, he was met with a laser that burned a hole between his eyes.

Yawn let go of his knife and fell another story. A pain vibrated up his knees. He tried to stand, fell, tried again and managed to balance against a wall. Something told him to move or die. Pushing the drugs far from his mind, he forced himself forward.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

Every few steps he had to brace himself against a wall or he would collapse to the ground. A dozen tiny lacerations, the result of crashing through the window, left a trail of blood any fool could follow. He'd hurt his left knee in the fall. It creaked with each step and every so often, he could feel something pop out of alignment.

Yawn was familiar with the space station, so even with all the pain, with all the drugs clouding his thoughts, he was able to find Grub's Eatery with only moderate difficulty. Stumbling drunkly, he tumbled inside, snatching an empty glass and a container of salt off a table.

"Yawn?" shouted a deep throaty voice. Grub was a chubby Human, dark skinned with close cropped puffy hair that the Kaleesh marveled at, as his kind's hair grew in silky straight strands. "Stars, Yawn, you look like shit."

The Kaleesh clutched his stomach as something painful bubbled inside of him. His brain was throbbing behind his eyes. Grub's voice was painful to hear.

"Jedi is following me. Arm everyone and get ready," Yawn ordered as he stumbled towards the restroom. Once there, he filled the cup with water and emptied the container of salt into it, before drinking the concoction down. Yawn lifted his mask up as hot, sticky bile poured out of his throat.

He heard the lightsaber ignite and the buzzing as it traveled through the air. He dove to his side, rolled to his feet and fired off a shot of his blaster. With ease, the laser was deflected back at him. Pain dug deep into Yawn's right shoulder. Coupled with the balance-altering drugs, he was nearly brought to his knees.

"There is no need for this," the Rodian Jedi offered. "Come with me quietly and you need not be farther harmed."

"You're a coward," Yawn spat. "First you poison me, then it's two against one. If there were only one of you, I'd be free right now."

The Rodian moved his lightsaber to a defensive stance, though Yawn did not see the logic. His right arm was useless, stiff and dead at his side. The pain was intense, but he could do nothing more than push his left claw to it to slow the bleeding. He did not remember dropping his blaster, but he was not holding it anymore.

"Now do you really expect me to believe you'll take me alive? I killed one of your own."

"You are to be brought before the courts, where you will stand trial for your crimes," the Jedi retorted. "There is no death, there is only the Force."

With a sudden burst of speed, Yawn ran past the Jedi, who confused, did not stop him. Yawn crashed through the restroom's door, falling and hitting the ground. The Jedi, as predicted, followed closely after. Too late did the Rodian notice that the formerly unarmed patrons of Grub's Eatery were now aiming blasters at him. In a volley that lasted for no more than a minute, a thousand blasts were shot. He managed to deflect a few, but one caught him in the gut. Another burned into his leg. He dropped his lightsaber as a hundred hot lasers tore the Rodian's body apart.

"You okay Yawn?" Grub asked, helping the Kaleesh to his feet.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"No problem," the Human smiled. "Stars know you've done more for us than the Republic or the Jedi ever have."

The patrons of the bar nodded unanimously in agreement. They stuffed their blasters back into the holsters under their arm or into their boot before returning to their drinks. Grub's custodian performed his duties of mopping the remains of the Rodian. The corpse would go into the furnace.

A yellow-skinned Twi'lek waitress brought Yawn a hot towel for his wounded shoulder. It would need to be stitched closed once he reached the _Nemesis_. For now, all he could do was try to slow the bleeding.

Yawn found and holstered his blaster, utilizing his left hand. He then retrieved the lightsaber from the Jedi's corpse, examined it, and dropped it into a sheath on his belt.

"Yawn, you really look bad," Grub said.

"I'm fine," he managed to say. The scales on his chest and ribs were slick and drenched with cool redness. His right arm began to stiffen. His mind had stopped spinning as intensely, but there was still a pain in his right temple.

"I'm starting to feel better already. I've got to get back to my ship."

"You are in no shape to go anywhere."

"If the Jedi are coming after me, then they might be going after Blixem."

Yawn managed to get far considering how badly he was bleeding. That same blood carried the poison that clouded his thoughts.

A part of the ground wasn't level and Yawn tripped, and he didn't believe he had the strength to stand back up.

He noticed a set of army boots take deliberate steps towards him, stopping an inch from his face. Warm fur brushed over his scales. Slinky arms wrapped around him to help him to his feet. "You'd better be able to walk," said Kiara. "Or you're not going to make it."

---

Yawn woke on a cot he recognized as his own. Finding his DT-57 on a table at his side, he quickly snatched it up. He checked it over, and seeing that it was loaded properly, he settled back on the cot.

"How long have I been out?" he asked as Blixem entered the room.

"Two days," he responded. "You've been coming in and out, usually to throw up. The poison should have worked its way out of your system by now."

"Who patched me up?"

"Hess. Turns out she knows a thing or two about medical. The shot went right through the meat, nothing broken. It'll just be sore for a few days."

"And the Farghul?"

"She came in armed with an ELG-3A blaster pistol. I took it from her and gave her a room. Hess is watching her."

Yawn pulled his vest on taking care not to hurt his wounded shoulder. He tucked his sidearm into its holster and slung his rifle onto his back. He found Kiara in her designated room. Her feet were tucked beneath her bed, and she was occupying herself with doing several furious sit-ups.

"Why did you help me?" he asked.

Kiara stood up. Though shorter in stature than the Kaleesh, she struggled to appear intimidating.

"You know that knife missed my heart by two centimeters?"

"I don't miss."

"As I lay in the alleyway, bleeding out, all I could think was: what a waste. All my life I had done nothing. I always promised myself: tomorrow I would leave. Tomorrow I would run away from Leo and get off planet. Do you know what the worst thing about tomorrow is? It's always a day away. The doctors had to re-inflate one of my lungs, and then it was a long recovery. I had plenty of time to think.

"After I healed up, I took all the money I'd ever saved and bought a ship and took to the stars. I barely knew how to fly but I didn't care. I was on the space station for supplies when I saw you. Without you, I'd still of been working for Leo. I would like to work with someone of your caliber."

"You're looking for a job then?"

Kiara shrugged.

"You were carrying a blaster with you. You any good with it?"

Kiara shrugged again. "I've been to the range a few times. I'm a decent shot."

"I would like to offer you a position with me. Someone with your assets would be useful. However, you must understand, I am in a very fragile situation."

Kiara was quite obviously disappointed by what he said, but did well to conceal any emotion.

"Once this messy affair is all over, you're welcome to a position. For now though, I'll drop you where ever you like."

Yawn turned his back to leave, quickly noticing the sound of steel sliding along leather. He turned, his left claw clenching Kiara's wrist, his right claw wrapping around her throat. He slammed her against a wall, first wrenching her wrist so she dropped the knife she brandished, then tightening his grip until her neck popped.

The body slumped to the ground, blood dribbling out of her mouth and ears. "Stay dead this time," he warned.

---

"What happened?" Blixem asked.

"She pulled a knife so I killed her. Apparently I'm enough of a threat that the Jedi need to hunt me down, but they don't need to come up with any decent plans."

"Blixem wonders about Hess."

"You like her, so I trust her."

The Gand shrugged nervously. "Blixem has been wrong before. Besides, people change."


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

No infections. The stitches were holding nicely too. After a week, Yawn took the captain's seat before pulling the computer in front of him. "Who is on the market today?"

"Onaga the Hutt has opened a contract, and is specifically asking for your services.

Yawn laughed dryly. "Onaga? My, the Jedi really are getting desperate, and sloppy. What is the nature of the contract?"  
"Onaga the Hutt claims that something very serious has come up, and requires immediate attention. As you are one of his consistent employees, he trusts you with the operation. It must be executed covertly, so rather than meeting at his fortress, you will rendezvous at a designated place on the planet Vodran, where all the information on the target will be given to you."

"It is such a blatant trap, I wonder if it is a trap at all. Computer, send him a message saying I accept, and to send the rendezvous location.

"Blixem," he ordered. "Set a course for Vodran."

"Are you sure about this?" the Gand asked.

"A trap must be set, and I'd rather it be mine than the Jedi's. This will test their dedication. A knight shows they want me. Two knights shows they take me seriously."

"Three, or four knights? An army?"

"It is nice to be wanted."

---

Hess could count on one hand the number of times she had been truly scared. There was the time when the great wave rose from the depths, crashing down and swallowing up her home. She was young at the time; her father carried her to the safety of higher ground. And there was the time the Whipid had grabbed her and held her in his vice of a grip, slowly choking the life out of her. And there was now.

"Just stay calm and act natural. I promise no harm will come to you."

The accented voice came out of a small transmitter in Hess's left ear. She turned towards the surrounding trees and foliage and tried hard to spot Yawn, but it was impossible. Every shadow taunted her mockingly. Ahead, the trees opened into a vast clearing. She continued forward, a little slower though, scared of what would happen next. In the center of the field were several sentients, the largest amongst them a Hutt that Hess assumed to be Onaga.

He was a frightening creature: a huge and swollen thing, easily five times Hess's size. It smelled repulsive of slime and fat.

"Be careful," came the voice again. "If Onaga is here, they really want to make this look authentic. That Twi'lek next to him is a Jedi."

Hess was not sure how Yawn could tell the female was a Jedi, she looked like a slave girl. All she wore was a single strap of leather around her chest to conceal the nipple of her breasts and another around her lower extremities. Hess did not even think she was armed. Aside from the Jedi, at least five Vodran bodyguards flanked Onaga. They were the ones Hess was scared of, each armed with a rifle, not that they needed them. They could rip the tiny Chadra-fan apart with there bare hands.

The Hutt spoke in his lumpy tongue. Hess could not understand him, but from his body language, he seemed annoyed.

"He asked where I am," Yawn said. "Just ask him for the information on the contract."

She did as she was told, and the Hutt responded with a clumsy bellow.

"He demands that he see me, or he will devour you whole."

Hess whimpered a little as she looked helplessly at the slimy tongue that emerged from Onaga's mouth to lick cracked lips.

"Listen to me careful. Pick up a stick from the ground, very slowly so that they don't think you're drawing a blaster. Draw a horizontal line in the grass, and then take three steps back. Tell them that anyone who crosses that line will die."

It was a strange request, but she followed it. The Hutt bellowed again, and two of the Vodran stepped forward towards Hess, who recoiled in fear.

The two guards stepped over the line. They fell, holes visible between their eyes, just as she heard the gunshot echo through the trees.

The Hutt was furious now, and shouted so loudly Hess was knocked down. She continued her feeble retreat. The remaining Vodran charged forwards, their boots passing over the line. Each fell, hollow holes appearing in their head just before she noticed the crackle of a rifle shot.

Within four heartbeats, all that remained where the Hutt, the Chadra-fan, and the Twi'lek. The Jedi ducked as a bullet skimmed over her head, before taking off, her speed and her magic allowing her to run over the plains with ease.

Onaga's laughter rolled out of his throat like thunder as he slithered along, approaching Hess, who could only crawl backwards. Strong, thick fingers wrapped around her waist and lifted her up. In another instant, the Hutt had popped her into his wide mouth and swallowed.

---

Yawn had learned the strengths and weaknesses of being a sniper early in his life, back on the barren plains of his home world. His best weapons were range and concealment. He wore a ghillie suit, custom made specifically for forested areas. His camouflage, combined with the distance his rifle allowed, rendered him nearly invisible. However, the more shots a sniper fired, the more chances for location. By the angle the bullets entered the Vodran, as well as from where the crackle of the shot originated, the Jedi was able to calculate where Yawn hid.

He watched through his scope as she came charging forth. He squeezed the trigger, but again she was able to slip beneath the skimming projectile without losing her speed.

She was upon Yawn before he could eject the spent casing of his rifle. A powerful kick knocked him backwards along the ground before finally coming to rest a few feet away. She approached her seemingly unconscious foe, not noticing as his claw slowly moved along the ground, wrapping around the handle of a shovel. He spun and swung the shovel, the flat of the blade colliding with the Twi'lek's cheek and knocking her off balance. He tried to press the attack, to drop the sharp shovel blade into her throat, but she lifted her hand. The familiar sensation of solidifying air overtook Yawn, and he was thrown back into his speeder bike.

"In the name of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order, you are here by under arrest for multiple counts of murder," the Twi'lek said. "You are to be detained and brought to justice on Coruscant. Any further resistance will result in your injury."

"You make deals with the Hutts, just to get to me? What did I do to piss you off so bad?"

"Come quietly," she said. "Or you will be further harmed."

"You take one more step, Jedi, and you're dead."

"I will not fall for your bluffs and lies," she sneered as she put her foot forward and rested her full weight. The ground beneath her yielded, and she suddenly realized she was falling. The Jedi was met by the jagged wooden spikes that protruded from the hole's base. She hardly had time to scream. Yawn had dug the hole nearly two hours earlier.

Without a second thought, Yawn mounted his speeder bike, his foot falling heavy onto the ignition. He nearly fell off as the bike lurched forward, speeding through the trees and into the clearing. Yawn leapt, leaving it to spin to an eventual halt. His claw found the lightsaber he'd stolen from the Jedi days ago.

Onaga was casually slithering towards his repulsorlift. The lightsaber easily cut through the slim and fat his body was composed of. His head slid neatly off.

Yawn carefully carved the bloated corpse open. He dropped the lightsaber and dug deep into the layers of fat, ripping the skin until he found the stomach.

His claws yanked and ripped, at last unearthing Hess into the fresh air. She gasped a heavy breath before vomiting putrid muck onto the ground.

"You okay?" Yawn breathed, sitting down next to her.

Hess wrapped both arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, tears wetting her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, stroking the back of her head. "I've heard stories of Hutts eating their victims whole. Never actually seen it happen. I thought he'd keep you as a hostage."

"Thank you so much," she cried. "I was afraid you'd just leave me. Thank you so much."

"I said no harm would come to you. All you really need is a bath and you'll be fine," he chuckled.

Yawn gathered up her small form and carried her to the bike.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Hess extended her hand to knock. Losing her nerve, she turned her back and retreated down the hallway. Stopping again, she returned and tapped on the door.

It was a long time before Yawn answered, looking down at her and giving an annoyed, "What?" Today, the Kaleesh was barefoot with a pair of khaki shorts. His upper body was covered in a black tank top, with a bandana tied around his bicep to hide the tattoo.

"What?" he asked again.

Hess wanted nothing more than to run back to her room and hide under her bed for the rest of the week. Instead, she said, "I was wondering, if you could teach me how to fight?"

"I can't teach you how to fight," he said. "I can teach you how to kill."

Hess occupied her attention with drawing a circle in the floor with her toe. "It's just that, I couldn't do anything when the Whipid had me. And I couldn't do anything when the Hutt had me. I don't want to be a burden."

Yawn stepped to the side of the door. Confused at first, she soon scurried into his room.

Yawn lowered to all fours, reaching under his bed and retrieving several tumbling mats, which he spread out. "The longer a fight lasts, the more chances you have to be hurt," he explained. "So you end a fight in as few moves as possible. Similarly, if you're fighting three people, and you kill one, you've only got two to worry about. Best place to target is the neck. It's hard to concentrate when someone is choking the life out of you, and a broken neck will put most sentients down for good. You do it for good: you kill them. Cause if you think you can show them a little mercy, they will shoot you in the back."

The Kaleesh came behind Hess, wrapping his arm around her throat in a rear naked choke. "How would you get out of this?"

"I don't know," she squeaked.

"Turn to your side and put your hands on my shoulder. Now put your leg out and try to trip me."

Hess was amazed at how easy it was to put Yawn, of superior height and weight, on the floor.

"That was good," he complimented. He took hold of her arms and brought her to the ground. His legs fell on her face and chest, keeping her pinned, and he pulled and twisted her arm, causing a decent amount of pain.

Fearful instinct caused her to bite at the leg near her mouth. Her teeth caught on the fabric of his pants, but it must have caused enough pain for Yawn to release the hold.

"I'm so sorry," she pleaded.

But Yawn waved a hand for her to stop. "You did exactly as you should have done. I didn't even have to tell you to bite me. You're ever in a fight: bite, scratch, claw. Just survive.

"But what if you're fighting someone, let's say a Shistavanen, and he moves in for a bite, what should you do?"

Hess shrugged.

"Clench you fist together and smash it into his mouth. When your jaw is closed, you can keep it tight. You open your mouth, and your teeth are a lot easier to knock out.

"You're pretty small and quick. You ever have to fight, keep moving. Circle your foe, bob and weave, duck and dodge."

"Okay." Smiling at the corners of her mouth, she asked, "Should I call you master or something?"

"I'm no master. My father was a master. He could kill anyone with anything. I'm a novice compared to him."

Yawn thought to himself for a breath. "Most important thing to remember: know your limits. It's not impossible to take on a dozen people at once. It's just extremely hard. Throwing you life away isn't bravery, its stupidity.

"Now, let me show you how to get out of a bear hug."

---

When plagued with fear or doubt, Sable could usually meditate to clear her mind of such troubling emotions. Today, she would have no such reprieve.

"I sense something troubles you, padawan."

The voice belonged to Teh-Ron Roff, and was as kind and soothing as any Jedi Knight's should be.

"It is nothing Master," Sable breathed.

"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. While lying isn't on the list, its still frowned upon by the council."

"Master," she started but bite her tongue. Finally, she said, "I fear that what I feel is unbecoming of a Jedi."

Roff's eyes were calm and accepting, and willed Sable's words forward. "I never knew my parents."

"As none of us have."

"But sometimes when I sleep, I dream of a family. I think I had a father and a mother, and brothers and sisters. And, and sometimes I feel an emptiness. And it doesn't go away, no matter what. It gets stronger and stronger."

"The path that we walk is a hard one. It was wrought with difficult decisions and few rewards. It is our destiny to be alone, always plagued with the lure of family. But it is our duty to suffer. We suffer so that others may live and prosper, for that is the greatest honor we can have."

"Yes master. Of course master."

"Prepare yourself padawan, we will be traveling soon."

---

The ship floated slowly through the depths of space.

Blixem lined the sights of his KYD-21 pistol and squeezed the trigger, shooting the empty can that was ten meters forward. "We can't just keep killing the Jedi. Eventually our luck will run out. Blixem has always followed you, and if Blixem has to, Blixem will follow to you to death. But Blixem would rather not."

Yawn shrugged. "You're right of course. But what can we do? The Jedi won't just stop. It's not like there was one who sent the order, and I can kill him and be done with it. There's hundreds of them, kill one and two more will take his place.

"What I don't understand is, why now? I've been executing contracts for nearly a decade. Why are the Jedi all of a sudden interested in me?"

"We both know the Jedi aren't effective, or even good, at what they do. Remember Uda-Khalid. How many did he kill before the Jedi finally decided to do something? A hundred? A thousand? They get around to everyone, eventually."

"There had to be something I did to piss them off this bad. Chosun ordered things worse than I could ever do, and they gave him full immunity. There had to be something I did that pushed them over the edge."

"Chosun never pulled the trigger. You pull the trigger, so you're a _more_ evil being to bring to justice." He thought to himself. "The only way you may get them off your trail, is to give them something they want better and negotiate a deal."

"And that means Cornelius."

---

His name was Petre von Cornelius, though it was not the name he was born with. The name he was born with was Winstone Romo. Cornelius, rather, was his business name.

A Ryn, his skin was almost black, but upon careful observation, one would notice it was actually a deep, dark blue. His hair and fur was a creamy, glowing white. Nomadic by nature and suspicious due to his business, he moved around quit a bit. Never the less, he now found himself in the company of a familiar Kaleesh and Gand.

"I am happy to see you both again," Cornelius said. "But I have to wonder why you are carrying so many weapons. Is that an RPG on your back?"

"I've been having a really bad month," Yawn muttered, clenching his carbine a little tighter.

"What trouble are you in?"

"Jedi trouble," Blixem said. He was cradling his shotgun as a mother would a child. A dozen explosives were strapped to his vest.

"I need information: why the Jedi are after me, what I did to piss them off so bad. Maybe something I can give them to appease them."

Cornelius thought to himself. "I haven't heard much. The Jedi aren't ones to talk about their affairs. However, some of my contacts within the Federation have been most informative. Some of the higher political ranks have taken an interest in you."

"Why?" he demanded, not expecting an answer but just releasing his anger. "Why now." He sighed, catching his breathe. "Is there anyone they are more interested in? Anyone I can give them to get them away from me? Anything?"

"If the Federation wants something, they will send in their Jedi lapdogs. They don't require you to get it for them."

"Then I'm fucked," Yawn realized.

Cornelius typed at his computer. "Yes you are," he agreed. "Considering the Jedi are here."


	12. Chapter 12

**This was probably one of the hardest weeks of my life. I just had so much work to do for college: papers, projects, midterms, and a few things I would prefer not to talk about. How does this affect you, you may ask. Well, I had no time to fine-tune the chapters that I post today. I have drank so much Mountain Dew and Coffee to stay awake, it's a miracle my heart hasn't exploded. Anyway, I apologize in advance for the spelling or grammar mistakes I am sure exist. Honestly, it's a miracle I'm posting at all. Enjoy.**

_Chapter 12_

Cornelius lifted his hands above his head in a show of submission, as the sights of Yawn's carbine found his heart.

"You sold me out?" the Kaleesh demanded.

"You just can't trust anyone," Blixem said. His shotgun was also aimed at the Ryn.

"You came to see me without any warning or appointment," Cornelius said. "How could I have called the Jedi when I didn't know you would be here? Even if I did call them when you came, how could they arrive here with in minutes? These are Jedi. Their meditations can yield the location of anyone and anything."

Yawn's grip on the carbine slacked and he allowed it to fall to his side. "I hate it when you make sense. Where are the Jedi?"

"They are currently fighting their way through my automated defenses. It would appear that there are two masters and a padawan, judging by their respective ages."

"Are there any other ways out of here?" Blixem asked.

"I'm afraid not. There is only a panic room, which you are both welcome to join me in."

"A Jedi's lightsaber will cut through that like butter."

"Yes, but I don't believe that I am the Jedi's target. I would simply rather not be hit in the crossfire."

The wall behind Cornelius's desk slide high into the ceiling, permitting him to enter the safe room. "Good luck," he offered, as the wall sealed him inside.

Yawn slowly opened the door, sharp eyes scanning the outside hallway for possible threats. "Hallway clear," he said.

Blixem passed him, shotgun held at the ready, taking ten steps down the hallway before shouting out, "Clear."

Yawn took cover as the hallway twisted into a corner. Producing a small mirror from his vest's pocket, he examined possible threats in the next hallway. There stood the three Jedi, casually making their way down the corridor, their hoods concealing their face, their robes trailing behind them.

Yawn lifted three fingers to Blixem, before pointing to the blind corner. Next, he lifted a clenched fist, and quickly opened his hand. The Gand nodded understandingly. He retrieved an explosive from his backpack, set it down and extended the tripwire across the walls.

Yawn, careful not to active the explosive, stepped over the trip wire and down the corner. He lifted the RPG to his eye, finding his target and squeezing the trigger. The Jedi merely lifted their hands and used their magic slow the rocket to a halt.

Yawn retreated to the corner, before hurrying down the hallway, Blixem following behind. The Jedi, believing their foe fled to escape their custody, hurried after. A heavy foot fell upon the tripwire, detonating the explosion in a sudden burst of orange flame and metal shrapnel that easily tore into their flesh.

One of the Jedi fell easily. The metal shards laced his chest, logging themselves deep in his heart. The other Jedi lifted his hands and used his magic to stop the flames and metal from reaching himself and the padawan.

Yawn lifted his carbine to his eye, finding the Jedi in his sights and squeezed the trigger. The laser entered through the Jedi's left temple, killing him instantly.

Then only the padawan remained. She drew her lightsaber, holding it out in a defensive position as Yawn and Blixem approached. Her hood restrained her vision, so she tore it off, standing ready to defend herself.

"Sable?" Yawn asked.

The padawan was unnerved at hearing her name. Any fault in her stance was quickly erased. "How do you know my name?" she demanded.

"Sable, it's me, Yawn."

"Don't come any closer," she warned, taking a step back. "I am a Jedi!"

"No," Yawn said. "You are a Kaleesh, and you are my sister. When I was fighting on the front, the Huk came to our home. And they killed you. I thought they killed you. I couldn't protect you, I was on the front and it took me nearly three days to get back after I heard what had happened. I thought you were dead."

"Shut up," she screamed.

There was no sound as the strap of the carbine slide off Yawn shoulder, but the crash as the rifle hit the ground was nearly deafening. He drew his side arm, only to drop it to the ground as well. Next came his grenades, then his vest just so she would be sure he was not concealing any weapon.

"Stay away from me," she screamed. "You killed my master."

"Your masters killed my father and mother, our father and mother. The Jedi allowed us to be enslaved, to live in poverty."

"No! You, I mean, we, the Kaleesh slaughtered the Yam'rii. The Jedi did nothing more but stop the genocide."

"Please," Yawn said. "The Jedi have poisoned your mind."

Blixem loaded a shell into his shotgun, took careful aim, and fired. Sable fell backwards, the force of the shot enough to rip her from consciousness.

"Rock salt," he quickly said as Yawn turned to him. "She'll be fine in a few hours."

"There was no other way," Yawn conceded, as he gathered his sister into his arms.

---

Sable was not sure where she was, but it was somewhere cold. Cold and dark. So cold and so dark.

The light washed over her suddenly, as did the heat. Thick and dry, she thought she would choke.

Somehow, she gained enough sense to realize she was not standing on solid ground, but rather hovering over the sandy earth. Before her was a temple, a beautifully craftedstone citadel with several Kaleesh children running about, playing games. The adult Kaleesh women, who Sable noticed were armed, were watching as their children played. One of them, Sable noticed, was cradling a bundle of cloth in her arms. Strange things to notice, she remembered thinking.

Sable watched as if she were watching a video, for she tried to stretch out her hand to touch the children as they ran past her, but her claw passed through them like air.

An older Kaleesh, Sable guessed a teenager, came out of the temple, a slugthrower slung over his shoulder and a sword sheathed on his belt.

"Eideche," one of the women said.

"Hey mom," he replied.

"Where are you going?"

"The frontier. Dad sent a report." The youth's voice fell silent for a moment. His eyes watched the children who were now playing a game of tag. "The Republic has sided with the Huk, and deemed us a threat. So they have sent their Jedi, to neutralize the threat."

The mother's face cringed as she moved to her son and offered him a long embrace. "Then all is lost."

"No," he said, holding her at arms length. "So long as a Kaleesh draws breath, we will not surrender and we will not lose."

"But," she started.

"No," he snapped. His voice grew lower, softer. "Stay here. As long as we hold the Huk at the front, you will be fine."

"Those are Jedi," she said. She said the word Jedi as if it burned her, spitting it onto the sands in disgust.

"Jedi can die."

"So can you."

"Stay here, alright mom?"

"Ancestors watch over you," she said.

"Ancestors watch over you."

He looked to the bundle of life his mother held closely to her breast. "And you, Sable. Someday you will grow to be big and strong and fight the Huk alongside of your father and me, until they are all gone."


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

Sable woke, short of breath, sweating, screaming. She screamed as she looked about the room, and upon finding both arms were bound to the wall with chains, screamed in horror.

"If I wanted to I could have done the coup de grace with my blaster, or a knife, or my bare hands," Yawn said. He was seated at the far wall, his mask held in his left hand, his blaster in his right. "I probally should kill you. All that you Jedi did to us. All the lives you took.

"But I don't want to hurt you. I've spent nearly a decade thinking you were dead. I don't want to make that a reality."

"Who are you?" Sable demanded.

"I'm your brother: Eideche xi Krieger, though most call me Yawn. Stupid nickname I got during the war. You are Sable Krieger. Our mother was Fordern sie Krieger and our father was Omeja que Krieger. We had thirteen half-brothers and half-sisters. They are all dead now, complements of the Jedi and the Huk."

"That's not true," Sable quaked.

"How methodical was their brainwashing? You were just a hatchling, but how could they corrupt so you thoroughly?"

"They didn't corrupt me. They taught me, of the evil that your people, that our people committed against the Yam'rii."

"It must be wonderful to be able to see the whole world in black and white. You are the good guy. I am the bad guy. The people you kill are the bad guys. The people you work with are the good guys.

"We did do evil things, I did evil things," Yawn admitted. "We slaughtered and we razed and we pillaged. But evil things were done to us. Course, I believe the Jedi would have conveniently forgotten to mention that. They don't lie. They just don't tell the whole truth.

"Have you ever heard of the silans?"

Sable did not respond. Her focus was on the Force. It was hard to focus, but focus she had to, focus on breaking her bindings.

"Monstrous creatures," Yawn continued. "Writhing, gigantic mounds of tentacles and teeth, creatures immersed in the darkness. You don't see any silans around now a days, because the Jedi hunted them down and killed them off, one by one. An entire species exterminated for the greater good. Now, I'm not saying that the universe isn't a better place with them gone, but genocide isn't an activity a _noble_ group should partake in.

"Sable, I don't want to force you to believe something. I don't want you to think that I'm brainwashing you. Soon you will be released onto a neutral space station. If you don't believe what I've said, check the archives in your temple. Look up the silans, and the terentatek. And look up what happened on Kalee."

He turned his back to Sable "I'll be back with something to eat, you must be hungry."

At last, he disappeared through the doorway, the mechanical clink signifying it was locked.

Yawn smashed his head into the wall, sighing heavily.

"Are you alright?" Hess asked.

"No, I am not alright."

---

"I had been in the trenches fighting for about a year, so I must have been sixteen. You were a few months or maybe one, I'm not sure. Lain and Molini were with me, so mom was alone at home with the children and hatchlings, with you."

He paused a long time, his fingers tracing the sharp edge of his mask.

"Sable I'm so sorry. We were holding the Huk back with guerilla tactics: sniping and raids and sabotaged. We thought if we kept them occupied, then they wouldn't bother with the villages. It wasn't a great plan, but we didn't have much of a choice. They had numbers. They had guns.

"For nearly a year I was away from home. Then one day, I get a message. Dad and Lain had been killed in two prior campaigns. Molini was posted somewhere else. I can't remember where, but she was killed a few weeks later. And I found out there had been an attack on the village.

"Three days it took me to travel back home. I didn't sleep or stop. My mount collapsed of exhaustion half way through so I ran the rest of the way."

He had yet to make direct eye contact with Sable. She had long accepted her captivity, and was lying on the bed. A bowl of stew was on the table beside her. She had not eaten it and it had gone cold.

"I could see the smoke climbing towards the sky from a mile away, and I ran a little harder. They set fire to our temple, and left the bodies of our family where they fell. I found mom, she'd been impaled through the chest. And Zanad's head had been removed, I don't know if that was how he died though, he had a hole in his chest were his heart should have been. The corpses had been dismembered in a frenzy, some were even partially eaten. I didn't know who had died and who had been chained into slavery."

Silence again. Silence as Yawn sat there, staring at the floor, too ashamed to look his sister in the eye. "It took me two days to bury the dead. I buried you; I put in your blanket and one of your toys. I had the holy man give you your rights. I begged the ancestors for your peace. And then I returned to the front lines.

"That was all I had left. Fighting, killing. Make the Huks pay, and never stop making them pay. The village was razed, everyone was dead, so I went to join the Grand Army. I took every suicidal mission that was offered. I didn't care. I wanted to die, because then at least, maybe I would see you again. It was inevitable that I was caught. But instead of death, the Huk chained me into slavery."

He brushed his long, black hair back out of his face. "I don't know how many years I rotted. I was just a shell, I did what was ordered of me, didn't pick fights or try to escape. The guards began to think I was a docile little shit, but I was just bidding my time, waiting for the opportunity, because there were still Huk out there. They were still on our planet, enslaving our people. That kept me going through everything. No matter how many beatings. No matter how much labor. I kept thinking about the Huk, and I kept dreaming of the day when I could return to Kalee and slaughter them.

"You don't believe any of this do you?" Yawn asked.

"It can't be true," Sable said in a low, angry whisper. "The Galactic Republic would never allow such atrocities to be committed. You are a liar. You are a monster. Just kill me, but don't try to convince me that you are some poor beaten down species who's innocent of any crimes."

Yawn rubbed his eyes with his claws.

"Does that annoy you?" she growled. "Then kill me. That's what monsters do, isn't it? They kill what they don't like. That's what you do, isn't it?"

"Sable," he said. "I don't want to kill you. I don't want to hurt you. I hope someday you realize that. The only thing I want you to do is to ask questions. That's what dad taught me. Question everything. He was referring to the battlefield: if the enemy sets up a base in sector 3, why would they do that, what do they have to gain? But it should be applied to everything."

"You're wrong."

"Probably. I am just a lowly hit-man. I never studied. I don't have your vast Jedi intellect. All I know is how to kill. Your Jedi buddies, their geniuses who spend their life studying. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe they learn too much. Knowledge is power, and power corrupts. Because I've done evil things, and I'm not completely evil, maybe fifty-fifty. I love my wife, I would die for her. I love my kids more than anything in the galaxy. I love Blixem and Hess. And I love you."

"Get out," Sable screamed.

---

Blixem was asleep, leaving Yawn to pilot the _Nemesis_ through the solemn reaches of space. It was quiet. Quiet enough that Yawn could really think, and remember how much he missed his home planet. The sandy beaches. The hunting. It was decided then, he'd return to Kalee for a few days, embrace his wives and children, and then he'd return to his work.

The ship shook violently, throwing Yawn into the desk before he bounced back into his seat.

"Sir, message received from unknown craft. Would you like it played?"

"Yes I want it played," Yawn shouted at the computer.

"Krieger. In the name of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order, you are here by under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You are to be detained and brought to justice on Coruscant. Your ship will be boarded. Do not resist. Deadly force is authorized."

In anger, Yawn smashed a fist into the computer, crushing the keyboard under the force.

"Can we make a jump to hyperspace?"

"No sir, they shot out the engines. We can't move."

He screamed again in blind anger. "Lock down the ship. All automated defenses active. Get Blixem up."

Yawn was running before he had a real destination, but quickly decided the armory was his goal. He snatched up what he could: his carbine, grenades, a cluster gun, explosives, pistols. And a long, thin dagger that he tucked into a sheath on the back of his belt.

The ship rocked again, whether because the Jedi's shot him again, or because of the boarding process.

"Sir, my systems have been hacked. All defenses are down. Hostiles are entering through the airlock."

Yawn screamed a guttural roar as he began to run, reaching the airlock room just as the Jedi entered. For a moment, he stared at them. Four, he counted. Four Jedi against him.

One ordered him to freeze. He plucked an ammonia grenade off his belt and threw it into the room before smashing his fist into the door's controls, closing it.

A blue blade cut through the metal of the door and began to hack a circle large enough for the Jedi to pour forth. Thinking quickly, Yawn placed a trigger explosive at the opposite wall, before running down the hallway. He squeezed the trigger just as the hole was completed and the piece of the door fell to the floor.

Perhaps one of the Jedi was dead, or just stunned enough that he did not immediately follow. Yawn dropped a smoke grenade behind him, for no other reason than to slow his pursuers down.

Through the smoke came a lightsaber wielding missile. One of his boots caught Yawn in the chest, knocking him back onto his haunches. As the Jedi swung his sword down to cut Yawn in two, the Kaleesh drew the dagger from his belt and parried.

The lightsaber retreated into its handle, and Yawn crammed the cortosis dagger into the Jedi's chest, dragging it down to cut him open. Organs, steaming in the cold air of the ship, tumbled to the ground. The Jedi gurgled wetly as Yawn crammed into his chest, through his heart. A crimson sheen spread out from the eviscerated corpse and all along the ground.

Yawn felt the air around his chest harden. But this time, the invisible hands didn't throw him back, but tightened and squeezed around his chest. The pain was instant and blinding. His ribs cracked with little resistance. Blood surged up his throat and out of his mouth. His lungs were squeezed until he could not breathe.

Somehow, in the blinding pain he remembered he was still gripping the dagger. He just managed the strength to throw the cortosis blade, the cold steel bit into the Jedi woman's leg. Yawn was released, and swiftly lifted his carbine, falling heavy on the trigger and spraying the Jedi with laser.

His ribs ached. He held his chest, tears wetting his eyes. He coughed, and with the cough came blood. He had to struggle against an urge to pass out, though release from the pain was an enticing prospect.

Then he noticed the hum of the thunder. One of the Jedi, lightsaber ignited, came forward. A wave of his hand swept the dagger and Yawn's carbine out of reach. Another took the blaster out of the holster on his belt.

"Just come with me," the Jedi pleaded. "No more harm must be inflicted upon you."

"Coward," Yawn managed to wheeze, but was quickly racked with a hacking cough. Crimson splashed onto the floor.

The lightsaber retreated into its handle, and the Jedi set it on his belt. "I know of healing. Without attention you will not live. Let me help you."

"Coward," he spat again. One of his ribs had bent inward and was pressing against his lung. Every time the organ inflated tears filled Yawn's eyes. The Kaleesh had been hurt before, but never like this. He prayed for death, or any other release from his pain.

Yawn slipped a holdout blaster out of his sleeve. He pushed it to the Jedi's groin before squeezing the trigger.

After that, Yawn collapsed. He thought of turning the holdout blaster's last shot on himself, even tried to lift his hand, but he simply did not have the strength.

"Blixem," he wheezed, seeing the Gand approach. "The Jedi. Kill him."

He watched as Blixem drew a syringe from his pack and approached the Kaleesh, who lay helpless in his pain. The needle broke through his scales and bit into his neck. He did not see much after that.

**One thing I wanted to do when I was writing this was I never wanted to make Yawn a super Jedi killer. I didn't want him winning a lightsaber duel with the Jedi like Aurra Sing . I didn't want him beating the Jedi to death with martial arts like Jango Fett did. I wanted him to be more clever since, these are Jedi and he's a normal assassin. When ever he killed the Jedi, I wanted him to fight dirty. And what could be dirtier than shooting someone in the crotch?**

**Anyway, this chapter became a lot more theological than I originally intended, with Yawn talking about the morality of the Jedi a lot more. The second part of him talking to Sable was added after I had finished writing the rest of the story. I think its good though, because it gives him a little more characterization. This was one of my favorite chapters to write, since I could write some dialogue, then have Yawn kill a bunch of people. ****I hope you enjoyed this chapter, next one will come up on Tuesday. See you then.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Happy Halloween everyone. These next two chapters weren't in the original script, as there originally was no Sable. Once I added her, I wanted to give her a little side story. Chapter 16 will conclude what happens to Yawn, then the epilogue, and then this is over. See you then.**

_Chapter 14_

The mechanical clink of the door told Sable that it was unlocked. She expected Yawn, or maybe Blixem to greet her. Instead, she was met by Master Toko.

"Thank the Force, you are alright," he said as she ran to him and embraced him around the middle. "Did Krieger hurt you?"

"No," Sable said as if realizing it for the first time. "He didn't."

She found Yawn lying on the ground, unconscious, though there were no visible signs of injury. At least until she touched his chest, and felt how easily his ribs yielded. There were few things that could do such damage. A buckshot from a shotgun would obliterate anything, but then there would be blood. Perhaps a kick from a powerful opponent, but that would only break one or two ribs. Every one of his bones was shattered evenly. Only one thing could do such damage.

She retreated back as if touching him burned her. Soon she had an urge to move fowards again, inch by inch, slowly approaching the body until she only had to reach out her claw to touch him. Slowly, her fingers found his mask, and gently slipped it off his face.

She supposed she could recognize a resemblance between her and her supposed brother. For the first time she realized she had never seen another Kaleesh in her life. She didn't know if the shape of her eyes or the placement of her tusks were common characteristics amongst her people, or unique to her family.

"Yawn!" The screech tore her back to reality, and she noticed Hess. Master Toko had her around the collar of her shirt, holding her off the ground, though she still fought and scratched in a vain attempt to be released. Behind him was Blixem, who obediently followed the Jedi. "Yawn, what did you do to him?" the Chadra-fan shrieked. "Yawn!"

Master Toko waved his hand before the Chadra-fan's face, and she immediately went limp, babbling incoherently a little before she went limp. He passed the Chadra-fan down to the Gand, who carried her over his shoulder. Master Toko then approached the male Kaleesh, hoisting him into a fireman's carry and proceeding to the airlock.

"Come along padawan, the prisoner must be taken to Coruscant, so he may stand trial for his crimes."

"What of the dead?" she asked.

"They are with the force now. There is nothing we can do for them now."

It was a long ride back. More than once Master Toko asked if something was wrong, but each time Sable shook her head, never averting her eyes from the mask she tightly clenched.

"Master," she finally said.

"Yes, padawan?"

"I am a Kaleesh."

"Yes you are."

"You were the one who found me, and brought me into the Jedi temple."

"Yes I was."

"How did you find me?"

Master Toko was visibly uncomfortable, and shifted his eyes nervously. She'd never seen him in such a way before. "Padawan, this is not a story that should be told lightly. To know what had happened would place a burden on you, beyond what I believe you are capable of carrying."

"Please master."

He sighed heavily, eyes flickering but never once stopping on anything in particular. "The story does not start when I found you, but much earlier than that. Many years ago, for many years, there was a horrible war on the planet Kalee. The Yam'rii went to that planet to," he paused, "colonize it. And as any group does when they colonize a planet, they sought out what ever riches the land would yield.

"However, Kalee was a barren world, and they found only one reasonable commodity."

"And that was?"

"The Yam'rii felt that the native population may possibly turn a profit. So, they began to export the _commodity_.

"The Kaleesh people, your people, were warriors though, and they fought back. They fought back very well in fact, to the point where they drove a majority of the Yam'rii from Kalee. But the Kaleesh didn't stop. They ravaged through the colonies that remained on Kalee, slaughtering soldier and civilian alike. They stole space faring technology, and continued their slaughter at every colony the Yam'rii had. The Yam'rii begged the Senate for aid in their war, and so the Senate sent a group of Jedi to settle the conflict. The Kaleesh attempted to fight us, they fought long and hard, but they were defeated."

"How did you find me?"

"I found you as a child, nearly a newborn, on the slave slate when I was traveling in the Outerrim. I could sense how strong the Force was in you. I believe it guided me towards you. I suppose you were one of the victims of the...colonization."

"What of the war?"

"It was a misguided campaign, you must understand. We didn't realize until it was far too late. What had happened on Kalee was kept from us, all we were told was to stop the genocidal campaign against the Yam'rii. But the Senators that sent us to Kalee weren't thinking of stability or peace, but the bribes they were given by the Yam'rii. Never the less, what the Kaleesh did was wrong. Revenge is never justified. Genocide cannot be justified. What we did was for the greater good."

She thought to herself, tracing the edge of the mask with her finger. "What of the silans?"

"The silans?" he asked.

"Yes. What of the silans? The Jedi killed them all off, did they not?"

"That's something different entirely," he assured. "The Force guided us to do that. And we must adhere to the Force's will. It is for the greater good."

Sable bit her lip so hard she tasted the metallic flavor of blood. If Toko noticed, he didn't show it. "For the greater good," she agreed.

---

The Dug snorted loudly as he examined the youthful Kaleesh before him. "Of course I can get to Kalee," he snorted. "The question is, do you have the methods to pay for it?"

Sable offered him a handful of credits, which he greedily gathered up with his dexterous toes.

"Enough?" she asked.

"It'll due," the Dug said, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the ground. "Ship leaves in two hours. If you're not on it, it leaves with out you."

It wasn't until the ship left the atmosphere that the weight of what she was doing finally hit her. The note she left for Master Toko (or whoever would find it) was painfully simplistic, only requesting that she not be followed. She doubted her request would be honored, but she hoped she would be gone before anyone bothered to search for her.

Sable had sifted through the temple's archives, expecting to find all of Yawn's words proven wrong. She checked about Kalee, expecting to find something she had missed, something he hadn't mentioned, something that would justify what had been done. But she found nothing that disproved his words. Nothing at all.

She traced the edges of the mask with her finger, before slipping it onto her face. It was not made for her dimensions though, so she had to hold it in place or it would fall off.

The travel would take at least a cycle. Sable thought of sleeping, but with sleep would come the dreams, and she did not want to see them again. Not yet was she sure what to make of them. Was the living Force trying to send her a message? Or had the Kaleesh criminal somehow poisoned her mind? Perhaps meditation would allow her to rest her mind without the troublesome dreams.

That was not meant to be. Just as her mind drifted off into peaceful oblivion, the visions came. The children playing on the dusty field. The mothers talking about the war and the Huk in whispered tones so the children would not hear. And the youthful son, fresh war paint on his mask, his weapon strapped to his back.

Sable broke from her trance to a knocking on her door. She wondered how long she'd been asleep, those memories replaying in her mind, over and over again.

"We're at Kalee," snorted the Dug. "You've got ten minutes to get off my ship or I'll gas you."


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

"Mom," shouted Remma as she raced across the dusty earth. It was her seventh summer. During the winter, her legs had begun to lengthen, and she now found herself gliding over the sands as never before. A bow and quiver filled with crafted arrows was on her back

"Mom," Myron screamed, struggling to keep pace with his older sister. He hadn't reached physical maturity, still burden with short, skinny legs and weak lungs. "Mom."

Talyn Krieger had been occupied with preparing the skin of a karabbac so it may dry in the harsh afternoon sun. Though she no longer boasted the toned, warrior's build of her youth, she still maintained an athletic physique that allowed her to hunt and skin and work and kill, should the need arise. She turned just as her two children reached her. "What is it?" she asked.

"Mom, we found someone in the forest," Remma said.

"Who is it?"

This time Myron spoke. "I don't know. But she's in bad shape. I think she's going to die."

"Is she of our tribe?"

"I don't know mom," said Remma. "Her clothes are weird and she isn't wearing a mask, and she's not armed, so I don't think she's a warrior from another tribe. And it looks like she's only at little older than me."

Talyn wiped the blood from her skinning knife and slipped it into the sheath on her belt. She walked past her two children, waving her hand, signaling them to follow.

It wasn't long they came upon a lump of cloth, its dark robes standing out against the natural beige of the earth. Talyn drew her skinning knife, should the lump prove hostile. It was not a preferable weapon, but it was something. "Stand ready," she said, and Remma pulled an arrow from the quiver, drawing the elastic wire of her bow to her breast.

Talyn turned the body over, revealing it to indeed be a Kaleesh: a girl about the age of ten or eleven.

"What's wrong with her?" Myron asked. "Is she goanna die?"

"She passed out from exhaustion and heatstroke. And she will die if we don't help her. What sort of a fool would walk around in the day wearing robes this heavy and not carrying any water."

"A fool like this," Remma said.

"You say she wasn't carrying any weapons on her?" Talyn asked.

"No mom. No money. No ID. No nothing. Except for this." Remma pulled a small metal hilt from her pocket.

"Give me that," Talyn ordered. She snatched up the hilt and examined closely, before attaching it to her belt. She hoisted the unconscious youth up as she made her way back home. Her children followed behind.

---

For the second time in recent memory, Sable woke with a scream. There was a youthful Kaleesh sitting beside her, who quickly shouted, "Mom, she's awake."

The mother Kaleesh entered, parting the decorated quilt that served as a door. "Leave us," she said, and the child scurried out. Then, turning to Sable, she said, "My name is Talyn Krieger. You?"

"S-Sable."

Talyn though to herself for a moment. "That's strange. My husband had a sister named Sable, but that was many years ago. She's dead now, killed by the Huk."

"I'm sorry," Sable offered.

"You should be. If you Jedi had bothered to keep the Huk off our planet in the first place, thousands of us wouldn't have been killed, thousands more never chained in slavery. You'll have to forgive me, I'm still a little bitter."

"Why did you save me?"

"Because whether or not you are a Jedi, you are a Kaleesh. We are not at war with any of the other tribes, so by law I must offer you shelter until you able bodied. Then, should I deem you a threat, I can kill you."

"I'm not a Jedi," Sable said. "Not yet at least. I am still learning the ways of the Force. And I don't like what I have learned as of late. You are Yawn's wife?"

"Yes, I am his wife."

"I met Yawn a few days ago. He said that I was his sister."

Behind her mask, Talyn's eyes glimmered. "That is possible, I suppose. We were not sure if the Huk killed you, or enslaved you. He preferred to believe the former, for to know you were out there, suffering while he could do nothing to help you. He couldn't handle that. What brings you to Kalee? Are the Jedi here to impose another sanction, starve a few more of us to death in the name of justice? Or perhaps the Huk would like to renew the conflict with you as their escorts."

"I am not here on behalf of the Order, nor the Senate. I'm just curious."

Talyn sneered, her hand slowly moving to the knife on her belt. Perhaps realizing what she was doing, she placed her claw on her thigh.

"If indeed you are Yawn's sister, then I will provide you with room. You will be expected to work as any of us are, and in exchange, you will be fed. And if you use any of your magic on my children, or if you try to corrupt them with your teachings, I will kill you and feed your body to a karabbac. And Yawn need never know you were even here. Make no mistake, I believe it would have been better for him if he still believed you were dead."

"Understood," Sable nodded.

---

The chains at his ankles and wrists were connected to a harness around his chest that prevented him from moving much. His steps were short and slow, or he feared he would trip, and further injury his sensitive ribs.

Yawn didn't know where he was. He had been unconscious for a long time. He woke in some sort of transporter, tied down with a bag over his head. Eventually the vehicle stopped, and the bag was removed, only so that he could walk forward, through the long narrow hallway before him.

There were two guards flanking Yawn, armed with rifles, side arms, and sheathed vibrodaggers. They wore heavy body armor and helmets with tinted visors, so it was impossible to tell what species they were, which also made analyzing what they were capable of impossible. If he somehow managed to escape, and killed one of the guards, he should be able to wear their clothing without raising any suspicions.

He grunted. Maybe both guards would drop dead suddenly from heart failure. Maybe Hess would crash a ship through the wall and rescue him. He was shackled, and badly hurt from his encounter with the Jedi. There was no way at all he could beat his two escorts and escape.

"In here," one ordered, shoving Yawn so he almost fell. The door closed behind him, heavy bolts locking into place.

The room was nice, large and well furnished. Yawn thought of Chosun's apartments.

"Greetings, Mr. Krieger. I am Lieutenant Black."

Lieutenant Black was, as far as Yawn could tell, human, seated at a conferance table. Physically, he had an impressive physique, muscles rippled beneath his uniform, threatening to break out at any moment, should he flex or exhale to heavily. Though sitting down, Yawn guessed he was a round six and a half or seven feet tall, large for a human but not unheard of. That didn't mean he was a good fighter, however. Yawn wondered if he could kill him, steal his keys, and escape. One opponent was easy to handle then two. He began fidgeting with his restraints, just enough to find a weakness without alerting his company.

"Please, have a seat," Black said. Yawn obeyed, not wanting to seem suspicious. "Have you any idea who I am?"

"Lieutenant Michael Black," the Kaleesh nodded. "Born to Carol and Lucas Black. Enrolled in the Senate Guard Academy at the age of eight. Graduated with honors at the age of twenty three. At the age of thirty, promoted to your current position in the newly formed Red Guard."

"I see you are as well informed as they said you would be."

"If the Jedi were investigating me, I figured then you people would be helping them, so I familiarized myself with a few of you.

"Have you any idea why the Jedi were investigating you?"

"I kill people. The Jedi don't like that unless they're the ones killing people."

"Yes. We pointed the Jedi in the direction, and they went forward."

"Well you have me now," Yawn said. "One more bad guy out of the galaxy and behind bars. You must be so proud of yourself."

Black chuckled. "You think that was our goal? To lock you up? Quite the contrary. We would like you to work for us."

"Then why not just put out a contract?"

"A variety of reasons. I have a proposal for you," Black said. "Care for a drink?" He poured himself two glasses of a strong smelling spirit, offering one to Yawn. Yawn displayed his restraints, implying they prevented him from taking the drink. Black took a key from his pocket.

The lock clicked open. Yawn looped the chains around the human's neck, before tripping his legs. Yawn mounted his foe, squeezing the chains tightening around his throat until muscle and bone began to yield.

Black's hand found Yawn's skull and began to squeeze. The pain was instant, and the Kaleesh released the chains in favor of prying himself free, but Black's hands held tightly. At last he was released, only given a moment's breath before a Black pulled his hand back and smashed his fist into Yawn's jaw. It was like a sledgehammer. His vision swirled. He couldn't find the strength to block as another blow landed in his chest. The crackle of his ribs was deafening.

Black's horny fingers found Yawn's throat. If he weighed his full weight down, the Kaleesh's neck would snap with ease. Instead he squeezed, just enough to display his dominance.

"You're a sniper, and a damn good one," Black complemented. "But I'm trained for the close encounters. You may know a few slick moves, but I'll kill you if you try that again." He stood up, towering over Yawn who remained on the ground, craddling his broken chest, fearful of another blow.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe you're supposed to wash your hands after handling lizards."

It was five minutes before Black returned. In that time, Yawn managed to drag himself to a chair. "What's the proposal?"

"War is coming, Mr. Krieger. War like the galaxy has rarely known. We need operatives."

"You have your pick of Senate Guard recruits."

"Yes, and many of them display exceptional skill in a variety of fields. However, they can be traced back to us. You, Mr. Krieger, are neutral, and that is a valuable thing. If a well known operative of the Hutts assassinates a senator, questions would be asked: why did the Hutts want the senator dead? You have worked for the Hutts, Black Sun, countless local governments, even the Senate from time to time. Perform jobs for us, and no one knows for sure who ordered the hit."

"That's it? You want to hire me. What has this whole thing been, a test?"

"Yes," Black nodded. "We require a pedigree in our operatives. If you can't handle a few Jedi, then what good are you to us? You will of course be paid handsomely for your services. You can send the money back to the wives and kids. That's right, Mr. Krieger, I know all about your family back on your home planet. A quarter of all contracts you complete is sent there. You should really be more careful about your finances. You aren't the only one who does research."

"Fine," Yawn said. "I'll work for you, under three conditions. One: you, and what ever new world order you're working for, doesn't set foot on Kalee. You don't touch my planet. You don't touch my family. You don't threaten them to get to me. If I fuck up, then you come after me, but you don't touch them."

"With all respect, Mr. Krieger, your planet is a backwater rock in the middle of nowhere. It has no strategic importance, no resources. We wouldn't bother wasting the resources to invade it."

"Then this should be something easy to promise me."

"Your planet, and your family, shall not be harmed in anyway. What is your second request?"

"The Chadra-fan that was captured with me, where is she?"

"Serving a sentence in Desolation Alley."

"I want her freed and brought to me."

"Done. I don't think you understand. You, your allies, your planet, is nothing. No one will mind if a Chadra-fan disappears from her cell. Nor will anyone care if a Kaleesh is found dead in a dumpster."

"Understand something, Mr. Black. I'm a sniper. I may not be able to take in you a fist fight, but I can kill you from two miles away. You fuck me over, and there is a world of things I can do to you."

It was a small, subtle movement, but Yawn noticed a hint of fear in Black's dark eyes. "Understood. What is your third request?"

"Blixem."


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

Blixem enjoyed his new life of peaceful solitude. No contracts to complete. No rebellions to put down. No delusional politicians to assassinate. No heirs to kill. Just him and his ship, peace and quiet.

Blixem pulled into a space station with the intent to refuel and gather some supplies. He was almost finished with these chores, when his phone rang. He answered without thinking, offering a respectful, "Hello."

"Hello there Blixem," said an accented voice.

"Yawn?" he asked, his heart jumping into his throat. "Blixem figured you would be in prison now."

"They gave me a day pass. Wasn't that nice of them."

"Where are you?"

"Someplace where I can see you, but you can't see me."

"So you're going to kill Blixem?"  
"Yes, but first lets talk. I get the Jedi; they were the soldiers. I get Black, he's the general. But what were you?"

"Blixem's job was to rear you in the right direction. Keep telling the Jedi where you were. Keep you going where they could ambush you. It was simple."

"How much is four years of comradeship, four years of brotherhood, worth to you?"

"Enough for Blixem to retire five times over."

"That's all? Credits?"

"Blixem was tired of the life Yawn. Blixem was tired of the hand to mouth existence, cause no matter how much we did, it was never enough. Blixem was given a way out, and Blixem took it. Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same. What if the Republic wanted Blixem, and they came to you, and they offered you your sister."

There was a long pause, where Blixem wondered if Yawn was adjusting the scope on his rifle, preparing the perfect shot. He would not shoot unless it was a clean kill, that was Yawn's style, and Blixem supposed he deserved that much.

"You're right," Yawn admitted. "I would stab you in the back for my blood. But you did it for money. Do you not see the difference?"

"Kill Blixem, Yawn, just don't preach."

"I trusted you though. And I don't trust anyone. But I trusted you."

"Blixem is sorry," he offered. "You'll kill Blixem now?"

"Not now. Not today. I didn't know when you were going to shoot me. You won't know when I'm going to shoot me. I'm a sniper. I can kill you at any time, any where. And I will kill Blixem, I promise. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But your death will come, when I decide it.

"I'll be seeing you around old friend."

**This was a fun story to write. I'm disappointed that it didn't really catch on, but what few people did read it, I hope you enjoyed it. I think this was good. Review and tell me what you think, if you have any comments or any questions. Bye.**


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